


need a big god (big enough to fill you up)

by jedihbic, sapphiresunset, thumosren



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Angst, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, Denial of Feelings, Exhibitionism, F/M, Face-Fucking, Female Ejaculation, Forced Orgasm, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Naked Female Clothed Male, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Pet Names, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Pussy Spanking, Restraints, Sugar Daddy AU, Verbal Humiliation, Will Add Tags As We Go, ben wants to buy her every fancy electronic known to man, rey just wants to go ham at whole foods
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-07-15 19:10:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 44,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16069460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedihbic/pseuds/jedihbic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphiresunset/pseuds/sapphiresunset, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thumosren/pseuds/thumosren
Summary: Rey has what's probably a very bad idea after looking at all of her bills and finds Kylo on a sugar daddy website. He's tall, dark and his face screams "fucks hard" and frankly she's lost. Kylo wasn't prepared for someone so smart, funny, sweet, and wonderful to enter his life. All at once, they collide.“In simpler words, Ben Solo was filthy fucking rich; an eligible bachelor in every sense of the title."





	1. Chapter 1

By the time Rey had finished sorting through her mail she was ready to drink at least 2 bottles of wine to help her forget the trouble she was in. She'd had 7 letters in total, each stamped with **“Final Notice”** or **“Urgent”** along the front. At this point it was a good day if her mail was delivered without the threat of eviction or at a minimum heavy legal action. She glanced over to her phone, a pang of desperation spreading through her chest. _"You know there are other ways to pay the bills, Rey."_ Rose's words rang through her head. 

In all honesty, she'd downloaded the app on four separate occasions, only each time she'd shaken her head, deleted the app and tried to forget she'd even _considered it._ Rey couldn't remember a time in her life where she hadn't paid for everything herself. Bills, tuition fees, repair fees for her shitty beaten up truck - she'd paid them all. The thought of someone else paying it, a man she didn't even know nonetheless, filled her with something close to disgust. _But what choice did she have?_

Her shitty job in Plutt’s repair shop barely paid the bills, never mind her tuition fees and the spare change she needed to actually feed herself. Rey couldn’t remember the last time she had a meal that wasn’t value ramen or cereal. She groaned and picked her phone up from the desk, tapping the app open and creating an account before she could think better of it.

**HermioneGreynger.** She cringed a little at the username, but she wasn’t planning on taking this seriously - _really._ She added a picture and activated the account, before throwing her phone onto the sofa, shuffling into the kitchen to make her signature value ramen. 

Stirring what was left of her noodles over and over again, she stared at her phone lying on the sofa, eyes burning through the back of it. _Could she?_ It’s not like Rey hadn’t had sex with unfamiliar men she’d found in bars before. She was no stranger to scratching _that_ particular itch. But this was different. She shuddered as she imagined some aged, wrinkled fingers groping her, stale breath at her mouth and age-spotted hands wandering over her skin. She suddenly wasn’t hungry. 

_To hell with it._ It was better than being homeless. 

She flicked open the app and her stomach twisted as she saw that she had two requests already. The first she deleted with a scoff as soon as she saw the image attached with it. _Could have done without seeing that,_ she bought her hand up to rub at her forehead. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. 

But the second, _oh the second._

His picture was the first thing that caught her eye. He was stood, leaning against a wall in a suit that probably cost more than her whole apartment - including furniture. But the suit wasn’t what made her stomach, and the place between her thighs, clench. It was his _face._ His hair was dark and pushed back away from his face, styled professionally, Rey had no doubt. His features weren’t exactly conventional but she’d be damned if he didn’t look downright _edible_

She decided she couldn’t bring herself to look at his lips.

Moles freckled his skin, leaving a trail down into his shirt that Rey was _more_ than tempted to follow. His nose perhaps would have looked out of place on someone else, but Rey decided it looked pretty ideal on him. A blush crept onto her face when she realised it could brush all the right places if - she shook her head. No need to get ahead of herself now. 

If his picture hadn’t drawn her in then his message _certainly_ would have. 

_“Rich, single man willing to pay for all your needs in exchange for being the only one who gets to taste you."_

That. Now _that_ had made her head spin. 

Her fingers ghosted over her phone for the next hour, typing out then deleting message after message - each one sounding as desperate and scripted as the last. She eventually settled on:

**HermioneGreynger:** _Hi! I saw that you sent me a request! I’m Rey, I’m 19 and I’ve never really done anything like this before! Not that there’s anything wrong with .. this? So how does this work, do you want to call or meet for coffee? Maybe dinner would be best for you? Anyway, just let me know! Rey :) x_

She regretted it as soon as she’d sent it, only she could manage to babble on in a text message. She checked her phone a minute after she’d sent it.

Then again.

_And again._

And Rey, well she just couldn’t sit _still._ She'd walked around her apartment 3 times, nervously eating all the snacks she could reach in the kitchen and had resigned upon sitting on her floor, playing with the hair escaping from her buns. 

Then finally, _finally,_ her phone beeped and his reply appeared on her screen.

**KyloRen:** _The Top of the Standard, Friday, 9:30._

***

Kylo Ren was, _of course_ , a screen name. Unlike Rey, the man figured, should he ever have the pleasure of meeting up with his clients, he’d better use an alias. Otherwise, there’d surely be a scandal if word got out that he, _Ben Solo_ , was offering his services on some skeezy app.

He was a businessman—the chief executive officer, more accurately, of a corporation greedy enough to be ranked number thirteen in Fortune 500—and it _showed._ The man possessed a closetful of seven-thousand-dollar Kiton suits, a Penthouse apartment stock full of Boca do Lobo furniture, and an icy cold expression worn every minute of the day.

In simpler words, Ben Solo was filthy fucking rich; an eligible bachelor in every sense of the title.

Ben was absolutely sure that he was still a bachelor at age twenty-nine for one reason only: he was entirely unsociable.

The man preferred, in his free time, to sit at home, surrounded by all of his high-priced personal effects. He tended to find other people annoying, and preferred to stay away from them all together, which meant casual visits to bars, restaurants, and coffee shops were off the table, seeing as how easy it is to strike up a conversation with strangers at those venues. And _he liked it this way,_ he insisted.

Had he been more personable, Ben figured he’d have been in a relationship a long time ago. Had he wanted one, he’d have gotten it—he was absolutely sure of that.

But he maintained that he did not want a traditional relationship, _not ever._ He only wanted one thing, he claimed; one itty bitty part of a relationship that didn’t include the emotional attachment, or the cuddling, or the arguing that was expected.

He wanted someone that’d fulfill his needs, or, more specifically, he wanted a woman that’d let him eat her out for _hours_ on end until he’s had his fill. Then he’d throw a bit of cash her way, she’d go back to God-knows-where, and he’d sprawl out atop his king-sized bed, blissfully alone. _That_ was an arrangement he could get behind, a relationship he could tolerate.

As luck would have it, he found an app that’d let him do exactly that, and his profile got the point across well enough.

After joining the app, he had many takers, which was to be expected. The problem was, however, that he was _extremely_ picky. He analyzed their profiles, scrutinizing the smallest of details—what angle their pictures were taken from, how wide they smiled, the articulation of their first messages—and made snap decisions. Rarely did anyone meet his outrageously high expectations.

When they did, though, Ben was thoroughly impressed.

That’s why, when his phone gave a little ping to indicate that someone had messaged him, he checked it and looked down at his screen, entirely pleased.

_Nice smile,_ Ben thought first and foremost. _Pretty eyes, freckled nose…_

He read her message twice, looking for any errors, deciding whether or not she had come off too strong, whether or not she was trying too hard. He decided that she wasn’t, and eagerly made the choice to take this further, typing out a response in seconds.

**KyloRen:** _The Top of the Standard, Friday, 9:30._

He’d meet her at the Top of the Standard—it’s a fine bar, and it’s never too crowded, which Ben always considers when selecting a meeting place—just to get a feel for her. Figuratively, of course.  
***

 

Friday came at once too fast and too slowly. She’d spent every spare bit of time since his message came through scouring her closet for something that said _“please put those lips all over my body”_ but not in a desperate way- _really._ She finally settled on a little black dress she’d gotten at Nordstrom Rack, paired with the strappy black heels she kept in her closet for special occasions. She put on a bit of mascara and a dab of lip gloss and was ready to go. If she was wet just from glancing at his picture every so often, that was her prerogative. 

She got to the bar early, because how would it look if she showed up late to something like _this?_ What even was _this?_ Would he pull her into the bathroom and spank her? The more she thought about it the more she quite liked that idea, So much so, in fact, that her body found itself functioning on autopilot, leaving her crashing into the most attractive man she’d ever seen.

 

“K-Kylo?” She all but stuttered, lips forgetting how to form anything close to intelligible. 

He was wearing a black suit and sunglasses, looking sexier than really anyone had any right to, and frankly, his whole outfit looked like it cost more than annual rent. 

“Yes. Rey?”

“Uh, maybe...I mean! _Yes._ Rey Johnson. I’m sorry about uh...running into you. You’re so- big - I...”  
He finally cracked a smirk watching her unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Shall we go to the bar, then?” He offered her his hand and her brain blanked out again at the sheer _size_ of it, thoughts of what it would feel like on her and in her careening through her mind. She placed her hand in his and swore the earth tilted off of its axis for a few moments. 

Rey _tried_ not to feel like she was drowning as she was perched onto the barstool, she really did. But the way his scent filled her head made her dizzy and the fact that she couldn't stop staring at his hands and his lips made that _frankly,_ impossible. He really was a sight to behold. 

The way he held himself could have tricked Rey into thinking that this really just his world and she was nothing more than a playing piece waiting to be moved or used up. He called the barman not with a smile or a friendly wave, but with a snap of his manicured fingers and a throaty "Here." 

Rey didn't catch what he asked for, if she was being perfectly honest she couldn't focus on anything else besides squeezing her thighs together for even a _semblance_ of pleasure, but when the drink arrived she was more than certain it could have cost close to a weeks rent.

Then, without warning he turned to her, his eyes were on her and his lips were still wet from the sip he just took from his glass. Which, by the way, looked _unfathomably_ small in his hands. Rey felt something close to panic spring up within her, like a rabbit caught in the headlights, and she just _talked._

Words just came tumbling out of her mouth, so fast she couldn't even be sure they came out in the right order. She talked about herself, her school, her shitty job, peppering each piece of information with nervous giggles and a twist of her hair. But the more she talked the more it dawned on her. The terrible realization of why he wasn't quite reacting to what she was saying, his face like it had been set in stone, his eyes not moving from her lips.

_**He was waiting for her to shut up.** _

She choked up as soon as she realized, bringing her glass to her mouth and gulping down most of her drink in one go.

"If you want to do this Rey, I have certain ... terms and conditions" He almost purred. Rey was fairly sure just him saying her name was enough to get her off for the next week. She opened her mouth to speak, but he raised his finger slightly from where it was resting on the bar.

"I consider my contracts to be ... _exclusive._ I see myself as quite a generous man, but naturally my generosity comes at a cost. I am to be the **only** one who gets to taste you."

Rey was fairly sure she was slick enough to stain the stool.

"Secondly" he started, after sipping his drink again, "You'll receive a weekly allowance for everything you need. Plus some extras if I feel you've ... _deserved_ them." His eyes flicked over her body, as if to punctuate his sentence.

"In return however, I expect your _complete_ cooperation. " His eyes flicked back to hers with a gaze so intense her heart jumped in her chest 

"If I text you a meet-up point, I want you there in no less than 10 minutes. If I call you, no matter what time it is, or what you're doing, or who you're with, or where you are, _you pick up._ " She could have laughed really, here he was, in public, openly talking about this agreement as if he were discussing the weather, his voice steady and firm.

All Rey could do was nod.

He stopped, considered her for a moment and took another sip from his drink. He rolled his tongue over his teeth and rubbed his jaw, mulling his decision over in his head. Rey _usually_ would have been disgusted by anything close to this concept, having a man tell her what to do and when to do it. The thought of it should have turned her stomach, should have made her throw his expensive drink right into his smug face. 

_Should._ The only thing it _was_ doing was allowing her to hear her pulse in her ears and clench her thighs together in anticipation.

He clicked his tongue over his teeth and nodded, his decision seemingly made.

"Okay, Rey. I like you well enough, providing maybe you talk a little less and follow those rules to the exact letter. _Do you understand?_ "

Rey suddenly realized she should be talking and squeaked out a _"yes"_ that should have been embarrassing had she not been tempted to start grinding on a barstool in public just to take the edge off. She opened her purse to pull out her phone, "So how do I conta-"

_"What. Are you doing?"_

He cut her off, his voice dropping an octave as he moved in closer to her. Rey had to steady herself on her barstool, feeling like the world was closing in around her as she felt his warm breath on her face.

" _That_ \- Miss Rey - is _not_ what this is." He stood and finished the last of his drink in one go. "I call _you,_ is that clear?" he nodded eyes squinting a little at her.

"Under _no_ circumstance will you initiate our _meetings._

And with a flick of his coat over his shoulder he was gone, leaving the scent of his cologne in Rey's nose and his words ringing through her ears.


	2. Chapter 2

Rey was frustrated, to say the _least._

She’d given the man her contact information, she didn’t try to initiate any meetings, and she never once messaged him to say, _“Hey, asshole, remember when you promised to eat me out in exchange for cash?”_ She was following his orders to perfection.

So _why,_ Rey wondered, _is his face not currently between my legs?_

It'd only been days since they last met, but it felt like years. Rey knew she didn't have the time, or the resources, to play games with an enigmatic stranger, _hoping_ she might get lucky and pry some dollars out of his stone cold, albeit _enticing,_ hands. And yet, there she was, desperately throwing dice. 

She tried to tell herself that it was because of the money, that she was angry and flustered because people like _him_ would never know what it was like to wonder where their next meal was going to come from. She even tried to tell herself it was the bitter bite of rejection that had her crawling out of her own skin from the moment she woke up. 

But she knew the real reason. She could feel it, vibrating just under the surface of her skin, like it had been since the second he'd reached for her hand. Burning its way up through her body, leaving her aching, jittery and frankly, _a fucking mess._

Kylo Ren had only just entered her life and yet she couldn't get through the night without shoving her hand into her underwear and gasping his name as she brought herself to an _unfortunately_ lonely peak. The thought that she would never see him again, that she wouldn't ever get know what his tongue felt like against her, made her ache.

So, when her phoned _pinged_ that evening, she thought nothing of it, leaving the device off the side as she mulled over a textbook and made notes, grateful for the momentary clarity it gave her. It was only when she got up to refill her coffee mug a few minutes later that she bothered to flip it over and check the screen. 

**KyloRen:** _Andrew's Coffee Shop, 436 7th Ave. Don't disappoint._

Rey was pretty sure that her heart was in her ass as she slammed her mug down onto the counter.

Fuck. 10 minutes, that's what he had said, _10 minutes_ to get to a fucking coffee shop several blocks away at 11pm. And, taking away the four minutes it had taken her to even look at her phone, that left her six minutes at best. 

Rey didn't even have time to change, a fact she considered as she fled from her apartment, feet barely touching the floor as she bounded down the steep stairwell. 

_Ah well,_ Rey thought to herself, laughing aloud, _let's hope he likes sweatpants._

By the time she reached 7th Avenue, Rey was a mess.

She considered herself to be in _okay_ shape—she went to the gym when she could, and lugging stuff ‘round Plutt's repair shop had helped define the more slender parts of her body—yet here she was, a sweaty, breathless mess attempting to stave off heart palpitations as she steadied herself against a shop front. 

_2 minutes._ Noticing the sign overhanging not too far in front of her, she decided to try and fix herself in the fluorescent reflection on the window. She felt a brief flutter of relief rise up in her chest as she remembered she had actually bothered to apply makeup that morning. At least that would count for something - _she hoped._

Hell, her poorly dressed ass would probably give him a power trip he _really_ didn't need. She fought the urge to roll her eyes. 

 

Once breathing had finally become possible she began to saunter towards the coffee shop, suddenly nervous at the prospect of seeing him again. 

_Would he be wearing a suit?_ She scoffed at herself. Of course he would be - she'd half convinced herself he slept in one. But that wasn't the most pressing question, the one that had been prodding at Rey's temples and burning in her gut since she sped out of her flat. Rey's question, the only one she gave half a shit about at this point in time was, 

_What did he want? What would his first instruction be?_

Upon seating herself around one of those circular, umbrellaed tables outside the café, her brain conjured _several_ images all at once and every single one of them ended with his stubble catching at her inner thighs and his tongue like a hymn where her thighs met, wanting her—no, _demanding her_ —to ride it out on his face. 

And then he would casually wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, toss over more cash than she'd ever seen collectively in her life, and leave her aching for next time.

Rey was shamelessly fantasizing about Kylo fucking her with his tongue when she heard another cheerful _ping_ —it’d been precisely ten minutes since she heard the last one—and, this time, she picked her phone up to read the message without hesitation.

**KyloRen:** _Where are you?_

Rey frowned down at the message, looked up at the big block letter that spelled out “Andrew’s Coffee Shop,” and hurriedly typed a response.

**HermioneGreynger:** _At Andrew’s Coffee Shop, like you said…_

His reply was instant.

**KyloRen:** _Prove it._

Rey looked around for a moment, anticipating that she’d see his dark figure leaning against the outer wall of a shop less than twenty feet away, holding his phone with a smug smile. She looked, but he wasn’t there. Utterly confused, she obliged him, sending a photo of herself from the neck up, standing in front of the shop, angling it so that the marquee was right above the tip of her head.

After about three minutes of no response, she sent him another message, _hoping_ that she wasn’t coming off as desperate. 

**HermioneGreynger:** _Where are you?_

The coffee shop had closed about an hour before her arrival, which was to be expected. Surely he hadn’t wanted the two of them to grab a coffee, sipping on their lattes and chatting like old friends before parting ways. Rey was entirely sure that this café was just a meeting point, that, once he arrived, he’d lead her to his sleek, black Porsche— _That,_ Rey could imagine, _is what wealthy assholes drive—_ and have her writhing around on the backseat for hours. Or maybe, if he was impatient enough, he’d…

Rey was unable to finish the thought—though, she _really, really _wanted to—after hearing her phone emit yet another ping, and she hoped that this one would be clarifying, that it’d explain his being late and all.__

____

____

She read it once, and then again, and then a third time, just to make sure that it was real. 

**KyloRen:** _I was testing your ability to follow my instructions. You did well. Good girl._

If Rey hadn’t been so angry about the idea of him testing her, she might’ve melted the second she read “Good girl.” She was angry, however— _furious, actually—_ and she readied her fingers over the keyboard, intending to compose a long, scathing message, when another notification popped up.

She blinked down at her phone in disbelief. 

**KyloRen:** _Do not message me any further tonight. I’m busy. I’ll contact you soon enough._

****

****

****

****

There she was, sitting in front of an empty, lightless coffee shop, dressed in sweatpants and a mustard-stained tee shirt, shivering, horny beyond belief… and _he,_ Kylo Ren, the rich man ordering her around from behind a screen—who, Rey figured, was probably sitting comfortably in his lavish, high-rise apartment, wherever that may be—had the _audacity_ to act as if she were bothering him.

“Asshole,” she whispered aloud, wishing he were there to hear how poisonous it sounded coming from between her lips. 

She sat, still, in silence, considering her situation incredulously. When she managed to collect herself, she picked up her phone again, determined to get the last word, to rile him up by bothering him just once more, but she hesitated, and, finally, decided against it. She slid the device back in her pocket and stood, emitting a displeased noise before turning to walk back to the shanty-like apartment from whence she came.

_You did well,_ she heard his deep voice echoing in her mind with every step taken. _Good girl._

***

Rey _swore_ she could feel her heartbeat thumping between her legs, and every beat said, _“Good girl,”_ as if her body was attempting to mock her. After a few more seconds, she realized what she had to do, what Kylo deserved after that little _charade—_ consequences be damned. She stripped down to her bra and panties, and she spread herself out lewdly whilst practically hyperventilating. She allowed her hand to slip under the waistband, gauging how absolutely _soaked_ she was, and then she plucked her phone off the nightstand to take a photo, making sure her swollen, bitten lips were in the frame. 

The picture showed the lower half of her blushing face, a flush that continued down her neck and chest. Her palm worked furiously between her legs, and the snapshot registered her entire hand as a blur.

She sent the picture without a second thought— _I’m going to pay for this later,_ thought Rey, feeling inexplicably giddy at the prospect of being disciplined for her behavior—and typed a goading caption, one that’d surely tempt him to respond. 

**HermioneGreynger:** _Pretty sure anything you can do wouldn’t be better than my own fingers._

She tossed the device aside, feeling deliciously dishonest—her slender fingers, of course, wouldn’t hold a candle to his—and closed her eyes, imagining Kylo’s lips and nimble fingers being put to work between her legs.

She could very _nearly_ hear his heavy voice sounding from between her thighs, his phantom breath kissing her skin. He’d peer up at her, black hair all tousled, _self-satisfied_ as ever, and he would, without a doubt, have something to say about the state she was in. It rang clear in her mind— _So wet… is this all for me?_

Rey squeaked out a response, pleading with no on but her own imagination. “Yes, _please…_ make me come. I _need it—_ ”

“Please, _what?_ ” He cut her off with a biting tone, and, God, did she wish it were his tongue that was unraveling her rather than the pads of her own glistening fingers. 

Her breath hitched, and she writhed around for a moment before whining, “Please, _Daddy,_ I want to come for you.”

If circumstances were different—meaning: if she _weren’t_ visualizing that smug ass seizing her thighs, using his plush lips to make her whimper and pant, lapping up everything she had to offer—she may very well have been embarrassed about the ease with which the title rolled off her tongue. But she was imagining just that, so she possessed no shame—And, thinks Rey, delirious, _I’ll say it again and again._

When Rey used the title a second time—“Please, please, Daddy, make me feel good”—she was so far gone that she could hardly tell if it had come out of her own mouth. It sure as hell didn’t _sound_ like her.

_“Good girl,”_ Kylo spoke lecherously. “I want to feel you come against my tongue, need to hear all your pretty little noises. Can you do that for me, _precious?”_

_Good girl… Precious…_

Rey was melting.

“Mmhm,” was all she could possibly manage, a series of strangled moans escaping her lips. 

She couldn’t take any more. Her hands were working herself so fast, it was just this side of painful. The apparition ceaselessly murmured praise in her ear—Among these plaudits were Good girl, and You’re doing so well for me, and Almost there, all spoken in Kylo’s distinct tone of voice—until Rey _finally_ came undone with a yelp. If she cried out Kylo’s name when she finished, well… he’d never know.

A ping from her phone snapped through her sated haze and reminded her what she’d sent. 

**KyloRen:** In accordance with our contract, Miss Rey, the breaking of terms and conditions has _consequences._ I’ll see you in 4 days. Do **not** contact me again.

********

********

Rey was fucked. Hopefully literally this time.


	3. Chapter 3

Ben Solo was _never_ shocked. He constantly drifted the lines between blasé and nonchalant - he thrived in his own apathy. He had no interest in work colleagues, office gossip or fucking  _brunch._ In fact - the _only_ time Ben Solo ever held conversation was when he'd drag some poor bastard into his lavish office to dismiss them without warning, with just a snap of his fingers. _He liked it that way,_ he kept telling himself.

 

He'd acquired an infamous reputation for himself, and that - that he _did_ like. Ben Solo wasn’t a man to be messed with. He walked round his offices like he owned the ground they were built on, and he _technically did,_ but that's besides the point. People avoided him like the plague, looked the other way when he entered a room for fear of provoking him and if he asked for files he got them within 30 seconds. He'd soon realized that if he stood himself up to full height, furrowed his brow and gave _that_ look, people wouldn't - _couldn't_ \- say no to him.

 

So when he opened his phone that night, sitting with his shirt unbuttoned, sleeves rolled to his elbows, balancing a whiskey tumbler in his hand, he almost toppled backwards out of his seat.

 

And _sure_ Ben had done this before, played games with a ditsy city girl whenever his craving got particularly out of hand, pacifying her with both his mouth and his money. But that had been business - formal and unattached. So _why,_ Ben would like to know, _did this girl's image send a spasm to his heart and his blood to his cock?_

 

For the first time in his adult - _no, his whole_ \- life, Ben Solo was left utterly inarticulate.

 

But, _oh,_ he could practically smell her already, all sweet and warm with a cunt _slick_ with nectar. And he just _knows_ that he could give her the most delicious orgasm she'd ever had, leaving her a mewling, convulsing mess on his silk sheets. Only this time, Ben wasn't sure that it was to satiate his own cravings, he wanted to pin her thighs open and drink her down just for the _sake_ of it.

 

Nevertheless, that's _not_ what this was. And Ben may actually have to book an appointment with his doctor about his heart - because he _really_ wasn't the type to get palpitations over some _bratty_ street kid.

 

This was a game, and games have rules that are followed for a reason. _She_ would have to learn how to be behave, and as for himself? _He_ would just have to build his walls a little thicker. He nodded to himself as he typed back to her:

 

 **KyloRen** : _In accordance with our contract, Miss Rey, the breaking of terms and conditions has_ consequences. _I’ll see you in 4 days. Do_ **_not_ ** _contact me again._

 

So Ben Solo sat, still reeling from the _sight_ of her, contemplating on how to build up those walls. And if he happened to pull down his zipper and pump himself hot and fast till he came in his own hand with a guttural grunt, well… _she’d never know._

 

_***_

 

By the time the fourth day rolled around Rey was ready to dig her own grave and just have done with it already. She'd known that breaking the rules, _his rules_ , wouldn't serve any purpose, but it had felt deliciously sinful anyway.

 

Granted, she'd spent any free time she'd had, between reading textbooks and doing shifts at Plutt's, with her fingers pressed against her mound just so she could get through the day without being a jittery mess.

 

Not that it helped. She'd end up even more desperate for him, dissatisfied with her own hand and praying to any god that would hear her that he'd _finally_ touch her soon. She was _sure_ his hands could show her what coming could _really_ feel like.

 

It made her sick with frustration.

 

 _19 years_ she'd managed to fend for herself, scraping together whatever she could just to buy her own place and get herself into college. It had meant sacrifices, struggling and endless bending over backwards just to make ends meet. _She_ had done that. And now she couldn't even get through the day without thinking of his wicked fingers, plump lips and what he'd look like once he was thoroughly _disheveled_.

 

She'd _tried_ to avoid Rose, she really had. She'd text her some substandard excuse just so she could sit at home and, _definitely not_ , watch the clock in peace or talk about how much she wanted to fuck a tall, inexplicable asshole.

 

She should have known it wouldn't have worked, especially when Rose came to frogmarch her out of her flat to get coffee.

 

For the first time in her life, Rey was blissfully grateful for Rose's talkative flare. From her flat, to the cafe, to being sat down with whatever drink her brain could think of under this _stress_ , Rose had never stopped talking once.

 

And Rey - she'd tried to listen, laughing along when she thought it seemed appropriate, but she couldn't stop the bouncing of her leg and the tremble in her chest, just _knowing_ he could text soon. She hoped he was a man of his word.

 

"Okay, so _spill_ , what's going on?" Rose stopped, folding her arms and raising her eyebrow, leaning in to examine Rey’s face.

 

"What? I'm fine?"  She all but squeaked, even her own eyes widening at the pitch she'd just managed to reach.

 

"Rey. You ordered lemonade." Rose rolled her eyes. Rey blanked.

 

"A-And?"

 

"Rey. _You're allergic to lemons_ "

 

 **Ah**.

 

"I just ... fancied it?" Rey shrugged, glad she hadn't actually sipped her drink once in the time they'd been there.

 

Then, just to add to the stress her poor heart was under, her phone _pinged_ in her pocket. _Not now_ , Rey pleaded, _this better not be you._ But of course, in natural Kylo Ren style, his timing was impeccable and he was seemingly an asshole even unintentionally.

 

 **KyloRen** : _Niima, 45 West Street. 5 minutes. I’d think twice before you disappoint me again._

 

Rey choked.

 

"U-uh. Rose, I _really_ have to ... go?" Rey stood, brain racing through directions, signposts and all other possible hindrances to her journey.

 

"Rey, what's wrong? Just _tell_ me?" Rose asked.

 

"I'm just feeling a little sick, you know ... lemonade!" Rey tried to play it off but she knew she was in for it later.

 

"But you didn’t even dr-"

 

Rey was already gone.

  
  


As Rey neared _Niima_ , once again with sweat on her brow and her lungs in her throat, she had half a mind to ask Kylo for medical insurance in the event that she actually injured herself in getting to him. It was becoming an increasing possibility.

 

 _God_ , her chest ached, but she wasn't sure she could blame it on the running, rather, just the desperate _longing_ that he would have the decency to be here this time. She got to the restaurant just as her five minutes were up, and she'd have been lying if she said she wasn't a little proud of her feat.

 

She scanned the outside first. _Nope_ \- no sign of the devil in a suit. She did, however, see a black Porsche parked up outside and couldn't help but flash a coy smile. _Asshole_ _car_ , she thought. Assuming he was waiting for her inside she stepped through the door.

 

Rey _very_ quickly became _very_ aware of the fact that she was _substantially_ under-dressed for his meeting venue. The couples sat in there were clearly out for "business brunch" in expensive suits enjoying a casual, afternoon glass of $100 champagne. Rey was glad she wore her nice sneakers today.

 

Before she could scan the room she was intercepted by the host, who gave her a more than questionable look.

 

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but this establishment doesn't _allow_ walk-in's." He looked her up and down, nose tilted upwards. "Did you have a reservation?" He inquired almost mockingly.

 

"Uh ... I’m with … Kylo Ren?" she offered hopefully. _You better be here you dick,_ she thought to herself.

 

His face dropped like she'd spat on his shoe and he quickly averted his eyes from her, " _Rightthiswaymaam_ "

 

Rey pressed her lips together not really knowing what to think of that. _Best not to think about it,_ she reasoned as she followed him in.

 

If Rey had at _all_ had the moral willpower to convince herself that perhaps Kylo Ren wasn't the most attractive men she'd ever seen, that thought would have been thoroughly shattered as he locked his eyes on her from his table. His suit was black on black and she'd have been kidding herself to say it hadn't been professionally tailored to his more than _impressive_ proportions.

 

_He looked delectable._

 

He was leaning back in his chair, arm thrown over the side, seemingly _unbothered_ by her arrival. Rey was starting to remember how much she disliked him - and maybe how much she wanted to pin him down and take what _should_ be hers by now - _but that’s beside the point._

 

She flashed an innocent smile as she sat down opposite him, trying very much to _forget_ the fact that she'd sent the man an image of her touching herself in a state of total desperation.

 

"You're late," he stated indifferently, glancing at his watch, which Rey was sure could be worth more than his car.

 

"What?!" Rey gasped, a little too incredulously. "I was outs-"

 

"No matter." He interrupted, "We can just add that to your punishment, _Miss Rey._ "

 

The way her name curled off of his tongue sounded simply shameful, and Rey was fairly sure she was wet already. Deciding she was in enough trouble as it was, Rey held her tongue - surprising herself. When he didn't speak again she picked up the menu. _Hell,_ if he was paying she was going to treat herself for once. Fuck value ramen.

 

"Oh don’t bother, I already ordered for us." He waved his hand, rolling his tongue over his teeth as he looked around the restaurant like her very presence was frivolous to him.

 

"We aren't here to eat, anyway." He added, voice deepening as something of a smirk breaking over his face. And _oh,_ he was looking at her now.

 

Rey would have been taken aback at the fact that his eyes looked simply golden in this light had the throbbing between her legs not become so great she'd had to shift in her seat, pushing back a whine that had built up in her chest. _Yeah, but when are you going to eat_ **_me_ **?

 

"What do you mean?" Rey asked, trying to sound confident and most definitely failing. The quiver in her voice sounding a little _too_ futile for her liking.

 

"Patience, Miss Rey." He all but purred, sipping from his drink, his hand dwarfing the crystal glass.

 

As if by divine intervention a waiter brought two plates of food to their table. It was some variation of pasta and Rey didn't know what a truffle looked like but she would place a solid bet on it being in her dish. She was _almost_ distracted from him for a few seconds just smelling it.

 

Unable to stop herself she grabbed her cutlery and shoved a forkful into her mouth, cream escaping the sides of her mouth and dripping down her chin. Rey was too hungry to feel anything close to shame, and _it was good._ Rey flicked her eyes up to his momentarily and immediately regretted it. He looked _ravenous_ , but not for his food. Her stomach dropped and she suddenly wasn’t hungry.

 

"So _Rey_ ,” he started, carefully picking up his cutlery to surgically cut into his food, "There is something urgent we need to attend to, something - I haven't quite been able to _stop_ thinking about."

 

Rey gulped.

 

"And that is?"

 

"You made a _very_ interesting declaration the other evening whilst overstepping your mark. I find myself _quite intrigued_ at its level of inaccuracy." He was toying with her with a cat plays with a mouse.

 

"I don't know what you're talking about." Rey stuttered, heat rising up within her as she crossed and uncrossed her legs, pleading for anything even resembling friction. He really was going to kill her.

 

”Oh _please,_ Rey, don't act so coy.” His voice was soft and low and _anything_ but innocent, her toes curled in her shoes and she gripped the arms of her chair.

 

_“If you think your fingers can do a better job than me, then show me."_

 

Once again, _there_ was that nonchalant tone - the one that made it sound like he could be discussing the weather with an old friend.

 

"What?!" Rey choked out, looking around wide-eyed to make sure no one was listening, suddenly extremely aware of their surroundings.

 

"Don't play with me, Rey. You were more than happy to show yourself to me the other night. **_Prove it._ ** "

 

He had the audacity to sit back then, putting his fork into his mouth, letting his lips slide across the metal slowly, lips pouting. He was inviting her - no - _demanding her_ to follow his instructions. Rey looked round astounded.

 

This was where people came to eat and discuss business and talk about their private education not _touch themselves_ under the table. She considered him for a second. He was still chewing, slowly, taking his time like she _knew_ he would with her. She couldn’t help but notice the way he looked into her eyes, so intense it made her burn from the inside out, like she was the only person in the room. It was the final straw.

 

 _Fine, let's play,_ Rey scoffed to herself lips parting slightly as she licked her, suddenly dry, lips. She’d worn a skirt - _without panties_ \- on the off chance that by this juncture in their meeting he’d be eating her out and wholeheartedly on his way to making her scream. _Fuck this and fuck him._

 

“No problem.” she started, leaning back in the chair, “Although, I’ve done it so many times the past few days, I still might be a little sore.” She tested the water, poking for a reaction.

 

His eyes narrowed even further at that, and he licked his lips.

 

“What are you waiting for?” he chided, continuing to pass off the illusion of _unbothered_ as he bought another forkful to his mouth.

 

She narrowed her eyes right back and slipped her hand under her skirt, realizing she was probably dripping all over the ridiculously expensive, custom leather seat. She found her clit and began rubbing slow circles, letting her eyes slip closed at the feel of it, head tipping back just a little.

 

It was _frighteningly_ easy to forget who she was, where they were and what they were doing - just the thought - the _possibility_ that she could be affecting him was worth any amount of public humiliation she could face at this point.

 

_“Faster. Fuck, I can smell you from here…”_

 

His voice had dropped several octaves and was lined with a dark edge that made her even slicker. At some point, he had started gripping the table.

 

And Rey? She had to replay the moment at least 4 times in her head to double check he’d even said it. She felt utterly _euphoric,_ seeing his blasè facade had slipped, even just momentarily - it was enough to make her clench where she sat. She let her fingers speed up, biting her lip to keep from blatantly moaning at the table.

 

She was _this_ close to the edge when something built up inside her, hitched its way up her throat and tumbled out of her mouth before she could fathom what she was whispering:

 

“Why don’t you just get under the table and put that ridiculous mouth to good use - I thought we had _terms and conditions._ ”

 

Now _that._ That was enough to make him blink twice. He soon composed himself again, pulling out his wallet from his pocket and placing it on the table, checking his watch before turning back to her.

 

“Oh _no_. All this bratty behavior… you don’t deserve my mouth.”

 

Why was his condescension enough to almost set her off? Rey was _gone,_ past the point of caring where she was or if anyone saw what she was doing. Her fingers sped up even more and she jerked, almost there, she just _needed…_

 

Her eyes flew open at his iron touch on her wrist, ceasing her movements completely.

 

“ **Up**. We’re going to my place.”

 

***

 

Rey was spread out on his California king bed, leaking onto his million thread count silk sheets. She hadn’t bothered with a bra or underwear, knowing what was going to happen or at least having a vague idea of it. More like _praying_ for it. His eyes had gone wide as he’d picked her up and thrown her on the bed, hiking up her dress before removing his outer jacket and folding it carefully onto a particularly lavish looking ottoman. Not that Rey could give a rat’s ass about what furniture he had right as he loomed over her.

“Do you think you _deserve_ to be punished?” He asked as he circled her, much like a vulture does with its prey. He’d loosened his tie.

“No” she stated, dismissively, “I mean if _you_ weren’t going to get me off I was going to take care of myself and- **_OW!_ ** ”

He’d _spanked_ her. His huge hand had actually _spanked_ her pussy. He was smirking wickedly and his eyes were on fire.

“ **Don’t come.** ”

“Are you _crazy?_ How could I come from thi-“

One giant hand pressed down on her mound and pulled the hood of her clit up, exposing her to him fully. The other hand spanked her _right there_ , and her whole body jerked.

“Do I _need_ to tie you down?” He spanked her again, hitting her clit just right and causing her body to _sing_. Her hips thrust up of their own accord and she whined, beyond the point of caring if he knew how he affected her.

 

“It seems that I do.”

 

She was lost to this frantic arousal, could barely see through the haze he’d created. Time was lost to her and before she could blink he’d pulled out wrist and ankle cuffs, probably from a weird kinky sex drawer or something. She’d have to think about that later. He spread her legs wide, wider than she’d thought possible really, and cuffed her wrists to the headboard and her ankles to the posts at the bottom.

 

“There. God, you look so beautiful like this, kitten. If only you’d been good, the _fun_ we could’ve had…” He punctuated this with another _slap,_ and this time it stung but after the pain came more pleasure that she’d imagined, and she tried to arch her back but she couldn’t _move._ She heard herself wail, as if from far off, like it was someone else’s pathetic sounds that had reverberated back to her.

 

“Shh. Be good for me and _take it._ ” He spoke, again with a softness that only added to the dark edge that tinged his voice.

 

She was so wet, she could feel it, Rey she knew she couldn’t take much more. She was totally exposed to him like this, and he drank her in greedily, never taking his eyes off of hers. He slapped her three times in rapid succession, hitting her clit so perfectly, and she _screamed_.

 

She must’ve fainted, or ascended, or _died_ , because the next thing she knew he was standing over her like some dark angel, shaking with rage. She was shaking herself, sweaty and sated and _found_.

 

“I told you **not** to come. You disobeyed me … again.” He spat, his voice ragged and worn.

 

“I’m sorry- I- I couldn’t help it- _please_ ...I _need_ -”

 

He impassively pulled a crumpled wad of hundred dollar bills out from his wallet and tossed them carelessly onto her sweaty, convulsing body like they were nothing more than tissue. The crisp edges of the bills caught on her sensitive nipples and she couldn’t help but spasm again, and _god_ she should feel ashamed or filthy or downright degraded, but Rey couldn’t feel much besides bright aftershocks tingling through her.

 

He smoothed down his hair from where it had fallen out of place and re-straightened his tie, hands shaking slightly.

 

**_“I’ll text you when you learn to act in a correct and agreeable manner.”_ **

 

Not that Rey could even _register_ what he’d said, she was too busy reeling, her mind trying to put two and two together as the haze in her brain lifted. She didn’t fail to notice, however, as he left the room how stilted his walk was, so different from his usual asshole cat-like strut. _This_ was when Rey had the earth-shattering epiphany — that she’d just made Kylo Ren _come in his pants._

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

In his modern, monochromatic-color-schemed washroom, Ben stood with a wet rag in his hand, his hair tousled and falling in front of his eyes as he desperately attempted to clean himself. Shaky breaths pushed past his lips as he leaned his side against the edge of the counter, looking anywhere but the flagging damp spot on his slacks.

 

_Holy shit,_ he continued to think to himself over and over again like a mantra.

 

He raised his head to look into the large mirror above the sink and scowled at the sight. His face was florid, glazed with perspiration, and his hair was _entirely_ disheveled. He looked at his reflection, goggle-eyed, and could hardly believe it was him at all—he, Ben Solo, was _utterly wrecked_ … and it was all her fault.

 

He’d told her not to come, he knew she wouldn’t listen; _that_ much he expected. What he couldn’t prepare himself for, though, was the absolutely angelic way in which Rey’s face screwed up as she came. He’d felt himself subconsciously leaning towards her, just to get a closer look at the little minx. He watched as her pretty, pink lips opened wide so that she could let out the faintest, “ _Oh_ ” he’d ever heard; her brown eyes losing their hedonistic glint as they rolled back in her head, and, soon after, her lids squeezed tightly shut as she shuddered. Apparently, the sight was too much for him.

 

He’d watched her face contort— _I’m going to make her do that again, and again, and again,_ he’d thought, instinctively licking his lips—and then felt a _very_ unexpected but _very_ familiar sensation.

He’d just wanted to watch her come undone for him; he hadn’t the slightest idea that they were going to come undone _together._

 

Never in his life had he felt so ashamed as he did when he came with a half-suppressed grunt, biting his fist and leaning a knee on the mattress for support so that he didn’t fall entirely on top of Rey, who was too far gone to notice what had happened.

 

He’d pulled a wedge of dollar bills from his wallet pell-mell and chucked them at her heaving, naked body before fleeing the bedroom, determined to lock himself away in the bathroom for hours.

 

It hadn’t quite been hours, but it had been more than twenty minutes, and he was getting rather sick of scrubbing his slacks. He wanted to get the fuck out of them as soon as possible, to burn them and forget all about the incident. He unlocked the bathroom door and turned the knob, already unzipping his ruined slacks, eager to step out of the damp fabric and into his neatly ironed silk pajamas.

 

Testing the waters, he peeked his head out of the doorway and took a cautious step forward. Rey, he hoped, had collected the cash and left at once, but, knowing her, she was likely shuffling around his grand living room, snooping through his personal effects, holding out for more of his discipline. He had to be extremely careful.

 

His bedroom was just down the hall, so he made sure the coast was clear once again before sprinting towards the door. In record time, he turned the knob and careened inside, carelessly allowing the knob to slam against the wall. Hurriedly, he swiveled around to close the door with force, turning the lock and then pressing his damp forehead to the wood, breathing slowly.

 

He stayed that way—standing, his slacks half undone and bunched up around his knees, his head pressed to the cool surface—for several minutes, mulling over it all.

 

He thought, mostly, about his walls; the towering walls he’d constructed in his mind that were proving frustratingly ineffective against Rey, it would seem. Even though he’d _just_ finished in his boxers, he still wanted her. The desire to taste her was growing virtually unbearable. He’d fork over thousands upon thousands, he decided, just to settle himself between her legs.

 

_I’ll have to build them higher,_ he resolved, still resting against the door. _Higher than that pretty little face and that tempting cunt can climb._

 

He was just about to push himself off of the door, to pull his slacks the rest of the way down and toss them to the side. That is, until—

 

“Are you going to stand there for the rest of the night _,_ ” an amused voice called out to him from less than ten feet away, “or are you going to untie me?”

 

_Fuck._

 

Ben stood, rigid and still as a plank of wood, and his eyes tried their hardest not to pop from their sockets. He released an involuntary mewl—one that formed in the back of his throat without him knowing about it—and then coughed weakly to cover up the noise.

 

A few more moments passed in silence before Ben steadily bent forwards to tug his slacks the rest of the way up, zipped them, and then turned around, clasping his hands in front of the damp spot.

 

There Rey lay, her wrists and ankles still bound to the bedpost, crumpled dollar bills pasted to her sticky skin, feigning annoyance. Her legs were spread wide, as they had been before, and Ben found that his mouth, _annoyingly,_ began to water.

 

Rey wore a smug grin—one that taunted, in a singsong voice, “I know what you’ve done,” right to his face as he stepped nearer to the king-sized mattress—and he didn’t like that mischievous gleam in her eye at all.

 

Well, maybe he did.

 

But he _really_ didn’t like the way her half-lidded eyes kept falling to gaze at his clasped hands, as if she knew what was behind them.

 

“I’ve been tied up like this, waiting for you to come back for… oh, I don’t know—let’s say half an hour,” Rey began haughtily. “Did you forget about me?”

 

If he weren’t obstructing the view of his accident with his large hands, he’d have delivered another harsh slap between her legs just to hear her cry out, just to make it clear that he will not be spoken to as such. But he was unable to do that, so he settled for adopting a stern look.

 

“Don’t push it, princess,” he bit out. “I’ve still got you cuffed to my bedpost.”

 

Rey squirmed as if the prospect did nothing but excite her, and Ben nearly groaned at the sight of her so _eager_ before him. She let her head lull, resting it against the taffeta pillowcase, and he held his breath as she attempted to stretch, her back struggling to lift off the mattress and her entire body taut. After a moment, she settled back comfortably and turned to look at him.

 

“That’s true,” she admitted, wriggling her wrists. “I’m all tied up, aren’t I? Completely at your mercy. If only you hadn’t come so quickly back there, we could be having a _spectacular_ time right about now.”

 

Again, Kylo went rigid, and he gaped down at Rey, his face reddening, while she peered up at him, utterly self-satisfied. He swallowed, opening his mouth to scold her for being such an insufferable _brat,_ but she beat him to the punch.

 

“Who’s to say we can’t still have fun, though?” inquired Rey rhetorically.

 

Kylo watched Rey wriggle in the confines, narrowing his eyes, trying to appear entirely unaffected.

 

“I can guarantee, Miss Rey, that whatever I decide to do to you at this point will be _less_ than fun.”

 

_"_ I'm waiting _,"_ Rey pushed, narrowing her eyes as she circled her hips a little, grinding into the air, catching her pink lips between her teeth as she did so. "Didn't know you'd be the type to rush me out the door once you come in your pants ... after all that _talk,"_ she goaded him on, feigning disappointment. "I didn't know I was being paid for _mediocrity."_

 

He snapped out of it at that, and he nearly growled at her when he spoke, "You have _no_ idea what you're talking about."

 

"Oh, _please,_ before can hardly count. I got _myself_ halfway there under that table; your part was ... _trivial_ at best," she bit, rolling her tongue into her cheeks, eyes burning into his.

 

Realistically, Rey was still sore and throbbing from when he'd last touched her, and she was partly convinced he'd ruined other men for her for good, but he couldn't _know_ that. And _Oh,_ how she wanted him to touch her again. She could feel how slick she was; she felt herself dripping onto his silk sheets, and she hoped she’d stained them for good, just to give him something to remember her by when he decided to slip away again.

 

Her last words seemed to have an undeniable effect on him; his face burned bright red, and his hands had finally moved to uncover the spot on his trousers. Rey was _just_ about to make some smart-ass remark about his "accident" when he lifted his slacks a little and lowered onto his knees in front of her, eyes moving to become level with her leaking cunt. She'd choked back her remark, gazing at him intently.

 

_"Trivial,"_ He repeated softly, lips curling up at the end into something that weakly resembled a smile, hair falling to cover one eye as he bent his head.

 

Rey swallowed harshly and flicked her eyes up to his ceiling, trying and quell the throbbing between her legs. She wasn’t going to be able to hold out against him if _that_ overwhelmed her.

 

_"’The only one that gets to taste me,’_ that's what you said wasn't it… in your profile?" she tried, squirming under the heat of his gaze, wishing, more than anything, that he’d just _touch_ her, just once, _please, please…_

 

"Well… don't you _want_ to?" she challenged breathlessly, pleading, raising her pitch to make her words resemble moans. He'd gone quiet, but she felt the bed dip under his weight, heard him breathe her in through his nose. She decided, for fear of coming _entirely_ too quickly, that she couldn't look at him.

 

"All this money for exclusivity," Rey started, feeling the heat of his skin near her legs, "when I could just go and find someone else t—"

 

She stopped, the words dying immediately on her tongue as she felt something wet and warm on her inner knee. A fire lit along every nerve; the mere sensation of his wet tongue on her skin was heavenly. His plush lips brushed against at her, tracing along her leg, and a large hand emerged to pin her knees against the mattress, keeping her spread for him.

 

And Rey, she was simultaneously thanking her lucky stars and damning every god she knew because this was _already_ too much.

 

He licked a stripe up from her kneecap to the tops of her legs, stopping for a second to release a warm, teasing breath against her heat. Rey swore she could see stars as she felt his lips turn up into a smile at the juncture of her thigh.

 

_"Should I show you what I pay for, Rey?"_ he spoke softly, his voice so deep that Rey was certain she felt it reverberate in her own chest. _Yes, yes, yes_ she breathed out, completely unsure if she'd even said it outloud.

 

_"_ You see, Rey, I have this _problem."_ He spoke, nose pushing at the top of her mound, breath hitting her where she was throbbing and wet.

 

“Mmhm,” Rey urged him on, hardly listening.

 

"I run an international business with _ease,_ " he spoke, his free hand creeping up her thigh to meet his mouth at her center, dancing over her skin. "I can fire a man in seconds, watch his life crumble before him and feel _nothing,"_ and _still_ he pushed forward, getting closer and closer to where Rey needed him to be, nearly able to feel the warmth of his lips.

 

He continued: "I have faultless self-control in every aspect of life… _"_ A strained chuckled escaped him then, deep and filthy, and Rey fought the urge to squirm once more. "Except for this one. When a woman is spread out in front of me, wanting”—he laid an open-mouthed kiss against her left thigh—“writhing,”—and then her right—“and _pleading,_ I can hardly help myself sometimes. Who am I to deny them that pleasure? Who am I to resist a _taste?_ ”

 

Kylo delved forward then, tasting her earnestly, slowly; he allowed himself a single taste, and, Rey, who’d been looking up at the ceiling thus far, emitted a sob.

 

She didn't think it would be an overstatement to say that her soul left her body the second his tongue passed over her little bundle of nerves. His mouth was warm and slick, his tongue covering the whole of her in one swipe as his sizeable hands pinned her hips, spanning almost the entirety of her waist, pushing her down into the sheets. She immediately regretted running her mouth now that _his_ mouth was on her and she was at his mercy, tied down with nowhere to go.

 

" _Oh,_ " he started, breathing heavily, causing Rey to look down at him. He wasn't just sat on the bed with his head bent; he was lying _flat,_ pressed up against the sheets just so he could be level with her dripping slit, legs all but _kneeling_ for her on his hardwood, polished floor.

 

His pupils were blown wide, gleaming with want, and he felt a primal, urgent type of hunger. His hair had fallen from where he'd tried to comb it back with his hands, styling futile with the heat that was rising from the both of them, causing it to fall past his blushing ears and into his eyes, giving him a predatory sort of mein.

 

_"You taste ... delightful,"_ he finished as he took another clean lick from her opening to the top of her mound. His voice was soft, full of admiration, and his words seemed to be involuntary and genuine; it wasn’t just showmanship or dirty talk this time. He'd said it like he _meant_ it, like she was everything he needed, like succulent fruit on a hot day, and he was more than happy to let her drip down his chin and quench him.

 

He nuzzled himself further between her legs, breathing her in, and then mocked, “I’d tell you to spread your legs wider for me, Rey, but I know you can’t help it… what with being tied up for me like a little Christmas present and all.”

 

Rey’s lip wobbled and she let out a stuttering breath, wishing she could move, wishing she could sprawl herself across the bed and give him full access; feeling the sides of his face pressed tightly against her thighs, though, was just as rewarding.

 

His eyes flicked to her face once more before he spread her open, gazing at all of her with unrestrained lust. He looked at her as if he had entered a dream-like state, taking in the sight with heavy-lidded eyes and ever-so-slightly parted lips.

 

“So wet, and it’s all for me,” he whispered his praise, leaning down to press a faint kiss against her exposed cunt.

 

Rey’s body involuntarily jerked, her breath hitching, and she could feel his lips shift into a small, smug smile where they were pressed against her.

 

_“So sensitive_ ,” he hummed in response, blowing cool air against her _there,_ and she keened.

 

“Just do it already,” Rey whined, wishing she could trap his face in between her legs so that he’d stop coming and going. “No more teasing.”

 

Kylo huffed out a laugh, genuinely amused by her plea.

 

“If you think _this_ is teasing, Miss Rey…” he began, placing another kiss against her, “I’d love to see how you react to _my_ definition of teasing.”

 

Rey really, _really_ didn’t want to know what his definition of teasing was, especially when she’d already saturated his bed linen and was cuffed to the bedpost. She wriggled under his large palm, hoping he’d take pity on her and just fucking devour her already, _please, please…_

 

When he _tsked_ three times and shook his head at her, wearing a look of disapproval, Rey bared her teeth, crying out in frustration, and Kylo just smiled.

 

“You’re so _impatient_ ,” he reprehended from between her legs, watching her scowl.

 

“ _Please_ ,” she tried again, tears of frustration beginning to well up in her eyes.

 

He dipped his head to taste her again, his tongue pressed flat against her, and even his leaden palm couldn’t stop Rey from jumping out of her skin. She respired loudly, panting and bleating for him.

 

He pulled away, licked his lips, and simply stated, “ _No_.”

 

Rey ground her teeth, and bit out, “ _Fucking asshole_ ,” without hesitation; the insult sounded venomous dripping from her lips.

 

He tsked once more and just said, “You’ve got a filthy mouth, don’t you?”

 

Rey recalled his who-am-I-to-resist-a-taste speech just a few minutes ago and incredulously cried out, “ _Me?_ _I_ have a filthy mouth?” to which Kylo, again, laughed in such a way that it seemed genuine; it was music to Rey’s ears, though she would never admit it. It made her want to smile, no matter how much she was aching to be touched, no matter how frustrated she had become.

 

“Listen to me, Rey: If you want to come,” he told her softly, and Rey listened with intent, “you’ll have to beg me.”

 

Rey scoffed instantly. “I’m not going to _beg_ you, Kylo. If anything, you should be the one begging me—I shouldn’t even give you the satisfaction of being in the same room as me after that little _accident_ you had earlier. _Pitiful_.”

 

She watched Kylo’s face flush again, watched the tips of his ears go bright red, and she smiled at her success. He feigned irritation, but Rey could somehow sense that it was false; she wondered, for a moment, if he _liked_ being spoken to as such.

 

“I don’t _beg,_ Rey,” Kylo told her, as if it were stupid to even suggest such a thing. “I _never_ beg, especially not for impatient, little brats like yourself.”

 

Rey cocked her head, trying to figure out what exactly he wanted. Her eyes gleamed, suddenly, with understanding, and she simply said, “You will.”

 

That wasn’t the game he wanted to play right now, though, and Rey knew it. She’d have to save that for later. Kylo had a different game in mind; one that involved _her_ begging, and he’d do just about anything to get her to cooperate, to hear her soft, accented voice plead for his assistance.

 

Rey had finally decided to give into his game just as Kylo leaned in for another taste, teasing her, trying to drive her mad, it seemed. He lapped at her fervently, and Rey cried out.

 

“ _Please!_ ” she called pathetically, more emphatically than last time. “Please, Kylo, please, please…”

 

She said it as if it were the only word she knew how to speak. _Please, please, please,_ over and over again like a prayer, and Kylo peered up at her from between her legs, a self-satisfied smile on his face. He seemed utterly entranced by the absolute neediness in her voice.

 

_God, he’s really enjoying this,_ she noticed.

 

But Kylo just wasn’t satisfied with “please.” He wanted to hear a variety of words fall from her delightful lips; he wanted her to beg for his tongue using a more colorful vocabulary, wanted to listen to all of her filthy prayers. It was his greatest wish, at that moment, to have her break for him.

 

“Give me more than ‘please,’” he demanded, pushing her further into the mattress with his palm. “You can do better than that, kitten.”

 

Rey shuddered, feeling his breath fan across her inner thighs as he spoke, and she spat out whatever words came to mind.

 

“Please,” she whined again, her voice cracking, “make me feel good, Kylo. I’m begging, aren’t I? I… need to feel your lips against me.”

 

Kylo gingerly pressed his lips to her upper thigh, poorly-hidden smugness shining through the mask of innocence he wore. “Good?” he teased.

 

Rey snarled, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

 

“Then what _do_ you mean, Rey?” he inquired, his eyes boring into her own. “Say it. Tell me exactly what you want, and don’t spare any of the filthy details. There’s no need to be shy when you’re with me; give yourself over to me, and, in return, I’ll give you anything you’d like, anything at all.”

 

“Anything?” she urged hesitantly.

 

“ _Anything_ ,” he insisted with a delicate nod.

 

Rey breathed heavily and she perspired, sticking to the sheets in the same way that his hundred-dollar bills stuck to her chest and abdomen. Whatever came from her mouth from that point on, she decided, would be raw and unedited. She’d do exactly as he’d told her; she’d give herself over to him.

 

Preening, she continued, more confident than the last time. “If ‘anything’ means you’ll fuck me with your tongue, then I’m willing to say whatever pleases you. I need you to taste me again, Kylo… again, and again, ‘til I can’t take it anymore. I’ll do anything, just… please…”

 

“Anything?” he urged mockingly, repeating her earlier response.

 

“Anything,” she mewled. “Absolutely anything for you. Just help me finish. Please, Daddy, I’m so wet for y—”

 

Rey stopped herself, and her body went rigid.

 

_Fuck._

 

She instantly gazed down at his observant eyes, gauging his reaction; he’d caught her slip-up. She watched his brows draw together, and his condescending grin grew wider by the second.

 

His incredulity was plain to see, and what was even more apparent than that was his excitement; _Oh, yes,_ he found that he rather liked that— _say it again for me, my sweet,_ he thought to himself, resisting the urge to grind against the firm mattress. _Say it as many times as you can._

 

Moments later, he composed himself, and his index finger began tracing small circles over the bare skin of her abdomen. He was the perfect picture of nonchalance, acting as though he hasn’t heard a thing, though they both knew otherwise. She released a harsh breath, hoping he’d let it go, but knowing _damn well_ that he wouldn’t.

 

“What was that, Rey?” he teased, his burning gaze fixed on her red-tinted cheeks. “I couldn’t quite hear you. Repeat that for me, if you’d be so kind.”

 

“I _said_ ,” Rey repeats, her face burning, “that I’d do anything if you’d help me finish.”

 

“No, no,” he tsked. “There was more than that, I’m sure of it. What was it that you called me? ‘Please,’ _what?_ ”

 

He made a pretense of looking deep in thought, as if he really, truly were having trouble figuring it out, and Rey’d have slapped him had she not been cuffed. Her face was positively sanguine at that point and shame rolled off her in waves.

 

“Please, _Daddy,_ ” she all but whispered, choking on the words, determined to finish the thought to avoid further humiliation.  “I’m so wet for you.”

 

And Ben… well, Ben was left reeling at that. There he was, a grown man, ready and eager between this _woman's_ legs, breathless, like the very ground had been taken from beneath him. And, sure, he'd been called his fair share of pet names in the past when a girl got a little too comfortable around him, but who was he to complain?

 

Hearing a few choked out _yes sir's_ had done wonders for his already-substantial ego.

 

But _this._ This was enough to leave him dizzy, burning up from the inside out and ready to thoroughly dry hump his mattress into another pathetic orgasm. Ben _really_ shouldn't be so surprised, yet here he was, a self-titled "sugar daddy," almost _dumbfounded_ at the words Rey had just choked out after he'd teased it out of her. It had ignited something within him, something dark, primal and desperate.

 

He let out a groan he'd been holding in and made a promise to himself right there and then; he vowed that he, Ben Solo, would lie here among his saturated, defiled sheets for as a long as it took to make Rey a sobbing, aching mess, begging for him to stop.

 

Never had he been so resolute to an idea as he was to spending an eternity between her legs just to coerce her into gasping _that_ out as many times as she possibly could, until even talking made her ache.

 

He allowed himself a subtle grind into his mattress at that, just to bring him back into reality, the delicious friction of it burning through his body.

 

Possibilities raced through his mind; all the ways he'd love to eat her, drink her down and make her come with his tongue, or his mouth or his fingers. Every position he could fathom, any location he could think of—he wanted to do it all just to see her face as she fell apart for _him_ . Just to feel her cunt quiver and her body convulse as he held her down, _claiming her_.

 

Then he was on her again, like a man possessed, licking at her slick opening, begging her to come with just his mouth and his tongue, almost whining as he tasted her.

 

Kylo Ren was too far gone, past the point of arrogant teasing, past the delicate licks and kisses he'd given out only minutes ago; all he wanted—no, _needed_ —was for her to give herself to him _completely_ , practically sobbing as he swallowed down whatever he was lucky enough to get from her ambrosial cunt.

 

And Rey would be lying if she said she wasn't _this_ close to finishing right there and then, unable to produce anything but strangled sounds as he lavished her, legs pinned open and fully exposed to him once again.

 

Any remnants of humiliation had disappeared as soon as he'd started to devour her, the noises he made bordering on _obscene_ —a cacophony of moans, hums and slick slurps as he drank her down.

 

His tongue brushed her in all the right places, slick and warm, but firm and confident, building her _embarrassingly quickly_ to orgasm.

 

" _K-Kylo,_ I'm gon - gonna c—" she tried to speak, words coming out as nothing more than breathy pleas, begging for release.

 

"Yeah— _Fuck—_ are you gonna come for me, _kitten?"_ he mumbled, lips still moving against her as he spoke, the deep vibrations of his voice rippling through her cunt making her clench, feeling regrettably empty.

 

And Rey _would_ have been able to reply to that, had he not pulled back, revealing to her his swollen red lips and wet chin, let out a deep, throaty groan, and _spat_ right onto her clit, before taking all of her in his mouth again, sucking down on her tight bundle of nerve endings.

 

“Is this what you _need_?” He teased, his voice nothing more than a guttural moan.

 

She was too far gone to even _remember_ how to speak, delicious pressure building up in her abdomen, so intense she couldn't help but screw her face up and try and hide it in the pillow next to her. He was giving her everything she needed, brushing and sucking right where she wanted it, right where she _needed_ it. Then he moved his hand from where it was pressing back her thigh and pushed up and against her mound, giving him better access as he continued to drink from her.

 

_That was it._

 

Rey was pretty sure she blacked out for a second, her whole body singing, tensing as she finished on his tongue with a yelp, fully lost in the euphoria of it. And Kylo seemed just as wrecked and blissed out as she was, slapping her thighs as she jolted underneath him, continuing relentlessly with his tongue on her clit, his face wet from his own perspiration and her spend.

Rey whined, unable to stop her mouth from curling into a delirious smile as pleasure flowed through her, warming her to her toes as she rode out the aftershocks on his face.

 

"T-Thank you," she managed to whisper, trying to move herself out of his face, his tongue _just_ beginning to verge on too much.

 

"Thank you? Miss Rey, I can _assure you_ that we are nowhere near finished yet," he chuckled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he sat up a little.

 

Rey's stomach dropped, feeling wrecked beyond belief, her nerve endings on fire after already finishing twice for this man. She opened her mouth to protest, to let him know she wouldn’t be able to handle anymore, but he cut her off as he leaned over her, tufts of black hair shading his eyes, his confidence growing by the second.

 

"Now, now, Rey," he tsked, stroking her face so gently she could barely feel it, "you're gonna be a good girl for me, aren't you?" He spoke so tenderly, and Rey was sure that voice would be the end of her.

 

"You're gonna come for your _Daddy_ again, right?" he asked, his voice soft like sin.

 

Rey watched as he took his own fingers into his mouth, pulled them out with a pop, and then rubbed her left nipple with them, pinching it a little. He brushed his wet fingers down her abdomen before ghosting them over her clit, and she couldn’t help but let out a pitiful whine.

 

“D-Daddy” she mewled, too far gone to care about how pathetic and silly she must sound, whimpering in his ear, “I can’t… it’s too much. I don’t think I can come again.”

 

He wore a soft, encouraging smile, but Rey sensed, underneath, he felt a desire to fully ruin her, and there was nothing soft about that sort of lust; he wanted to see her come undone for him over and over again, until she was nothing but a sweaty, blathering mess writhing around on his sheets, incoherent and dazed.

 

“ _You can_ , precious. You will. I’ll make sure of it,” he pronounced decidedly. “As many times as I can wring out of your sweet, little pussy.”

 

With that, he lowered himself again, spreading her lips open and nosing over her clit as she fought to keep her hips still. He kissed the hood of her clit repeatedly, licking under and over it before lifting his eyes up to her roseate face.

 

“Such a pretty little clit, and all mine to play with,” he spoke filthily, sounding genuinely pleased. “I want you to watch me make you scream, kitten… watch me take you apart and put you back together. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

 

Rey’s breath escaped her in harsh gasps, and she, without hesitation, nodded, confirming what he already knew to be true. “Mmhm, Daddy.”

 

“I knew you would,” he claimed, breathing her in. “I like you like this, Rey. Who would’ve known what a _filthy_ little thing you are if I hadn’t come along? Who would’ve _ever_ been able to satisfy you, if not for me? Such a good girl…”

 

It sounded as if he hadn’t a clue what was spilling from his lips as he drank from her like a man left high and dry in the desert. To her delight he was just as inarticulate as her at that moment, and, between the two of them, there was a plentiful amount of involuntary hums, and whines, and pleads.

 

All pretense of softness gone, he sucked her clit into his mouth and _hummed_ , before sliding one finger, then two, inside of her and curling the both of them, finding that spot within her that made her gush, rubbing it mercilessly. She felt herself climbing again, and, this time, the orgasm felt so strong that she felt she needed to brace herself. She was nowhere near ready to feel _that_ again. She—

 

She gushed all over Kylo’s face and hand as she screamed out her release, her nerve endings singing for him, celebrating her current state of euphoria. She had a few moments of bliss before she found the presence of mind to be _utterly_ embarrassed that she’d soaked his face and hair with her release.

 

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t know that would - _could -_  happen. It’s… it’s in your hair. _Jesus_ …”

 

In all honestly, the way that Kylo was looking at her, like she was some ethereal goddess that had hung the moon and the stars for just him, made it a _little_ difficult to be sorry. His eyes were wide and filled with something Rey couldn't quite place, but it made her chest hurt anyway. He composed himself several quiet seconds after her apology.

 

“Nonsense,” he began with a devilish, proud grin and a kiss to her thigh, “I made you squirt all over me. The sheets and blanket will have to be sent out for dry-cleaning, but… I want more of you.”

 

He slid his fingers out of her and lifted them to her lips, coating them with her essence.

 

“Taste yourself.”

 

She licked her lips eagerly and stared at him, covered in her as he was. He bent his head back down and licked the slick off her thighs, kissing as he went. He slid his tongue inside of her and thumbed her clit, and she wished she could grab onto his hair, or the sheets, instead of letting her wrists wriggle uselessly against the cuffs.

 

She came undone once again as he drank her down, and it felt like her whole lower half was on fire. The rational part of her wanted him to stop—it insisted that Rey couldn’t take much more of this.

 

He was laying waste to her cunt, and she’d surely be too sore to move once he’d satisfied himself—but his skilled tongue made her entirely _irrational_ , and those reasoned thoughts fell on deaf ears.

 

She was utterly lost in him and he refused to give her a break, latching his mouth onto her and sucking as his fingers found that place inside of her once more. His fingers played her for a fool, played her like he was a conductor and she was a symphony. She felt the orgasm rising in her again and didn’t want to fall.

 

She wanted to stay in the bliss of his mouth forever, but when his eyes flicked up to hers and he thrust his fingers in her harder she couldn’t help but fall once more. This time the pleasure had too much of a painful edge, and she felt tears roll down her cheeks.

 

“Ky- Daddy - I can’t - I don’t have anything left in me.”

 

“I think you can come one more time for me, kitten. It’ll make daddy so happy.”

 

She closed her eyes and nodded, surrendering fully to his mouth. This time he licked her softly, gently, a tease compared to what he’d been doing, but her nerves were so raw it was still _just_ this side of too much.

 

She had accepted that it was going to take her a while to get there this time _until_ he grazed his teeth over her clit once, twice, three times and she came again, gloriously - deliciously. Rey was so blissed out and used up that could have fallen asleep if it weren’t for Kylo freeing her arms and legs and running a cool cloth over her. It took her a few minutes to realize he was even talking.

 

“My driver will take you home. I left an envelope in your purse. I- thanks.”

 

She could only stare at him, noting how the facade of unflappable business magnate was gone and replaced with a man who looked lost and found all at once. She gathered herself and stood up on shaky legs, pussy aching and throbbing with overuse. She put her clothes back on gingerly, shuddering at the feel of her still wet underwear. As she walked past him she brushed his hand with hers, thinking about how it had just been inside her moments ago.

 

In the back of his sleek black town car she pulled the envelope out and opened to find a thousand dollars and a note.

 

“ _Miss Rey,_

 

Thank you for letting me taste your exquisite cunt. I hope every step is a reminder of how I made you feel, and will again. I can still feel you on my lips.

 

_Yours,_

 

_Kylo Ren_ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a big god spotify playlist we made, if ya'll wanna check it out: https://open.spotify.com/user/clarawful/playlist/7GGGwyX3tWcI42bvzKahzA?si=CBWj4T7MRdC65YFyNy2EYw


	5. Chapter 5

Ben Solo _never_ walked to work, not once in all his twenty-nine years.

 

His office was located a mere five blocks from his high-rise apartment, meaning he could easily make the trek by foot and be there in under fifteen minutes if he so chose; that’s what every other New Yorker seemed to be conditioned to do. He made a point, though, to arrive in his streamlined, sable Porsche every single day without fail. If he ever encountered a morning in which the Porsche didn’t appeal to him, he’d take the Maserati instead, or one of the many other “asshole cars” that lay dormant in the exclusive, sequestered parking garage he’d rented out a while back.

 

He’d _never_ walk.

 

So, when Ben strolled through the front entrance of the First Order headquarters—the sleek, gunmetal superstructure is a sight to behold from the streets—with perspiration lining his forehead, his normally-gelled hair windswept every which way, the receptionist, Mr. Dopheld Mitaka, nearly choked.

 

“Sir,” he hesitantly addressed, testing the waters, “did… did you walk here?”

 

Ben smoothed down his unkempt mop of hair and huffed out a laugh, a sound so unfamiliar to Mitaka that the man could hardly believe he actually heard it.

 

“Good morning to you too, Dopheld,” Ben called lightheartedly, adjusting his tie before ambling past the front desk, heading towards his own office.

 

It felt as if he was not walking but floating as he stepped onto the elevator, an unshakable grin plastered on his face. He listened to the Muzak sounding in the background; the unobtrusive, easy-listening track would normally irk the executive, but, at this time, he felt rather calmed by the sound.

 

When he reached his floor— _ding!_ —he smoothed back his hair once more and stepped off, bounding down the corridor, peering into open doorways as he crossed the hall.

 

“Good morning,” Kylo casually acknowledged each of his employees as he sauntered past their offices, taking several minutes to even reach his doorway instead of the 10 seconds it usually took with his irritated pace.

His employees’ eyes bugged out of their sockets and, out of pure shock, they made no attempt to greet him back, but Ben didn’t mind much. He carried on smiling until his office door shut lightly behind him, and crossed the room to seat himself, a smile still pulling at his lips.

 

Ben was still adrenalized from last night’s happenings, see.

 

He hadn’t had the luxury of eating a woman out in so long, and his own fault-finding nature was to blame for that; he was _picky._ He was a perfectionist, and he couldn’t exactly enjoy himself between a woman’s legs if his mind was mulling over a slight error in her profile, or some bizarre quirk she possessed. It was troubling, especially when, night after night, all he wanted to do was bury his face between a pair of thighs.

 

Rey, though…

 

She wasn’t the type of woman he was used to having, he’d admit. The girl had a rather athletic, muscular build; her shoulders were well-developed, and her hips were slim. She was strong, he gathered from her toned calves and sculpted biceps. He figured that, even with his imposing stature and his own physical strength, she could ruin him in all sorts of ways if she wanted to.

 

The thought of that skinny, five-foot-seven brat roughhousing him caused Ben to shift in his seat.

 

Her breasts, too, were something he normally wouldn’t be too pleased with. He’d preferred bustier women before Rey. Small breasts were never something that excited him, but the memory of his own sizeable hands dwarfing her pretty, little tits sent blood rushing straight to his cock. She was sensitive there, and Ben wanted to kiss and suck every inch of her chest just to hear her mewl for him once more.

 

 _Fuck,_ Ben thought, resisting the urge to palm himself in his unlocked office.

 

She was a new kind of perfect to him, and he didn’t want to ruin that. The second she hobbled out of his apartment last night, he phoned his assistant, Mr. Armitage Hux, and breathily ordered that the man pick up a series of gifts. _Yes,_ it had been one in the morning, but Ben Solo _always_ gets what he wants.

 

That’s another reason he was so sunny and restless, crossing his legs and shifting in his chair, re-arranging the expensive gadgets on his desk; Rey would receive his pristinely-packaged, expensive presents any minute now, and he wondered just how the little minx planned to show her gratitude.

 

***

 

It'd been nearly 24 hours since Rey had found salvation with the devil's mouth between her legs and his fingers in her cunt and, honestly, she wasn't sure she had stopped aching since she'd been hushed out of his penthouse apartment, unable to walk properly.

 

She'd woken up that morning, limbs screaming at her, skin sticky with sweat, spit, and God-knows-what-else. It wasn't _entirely_ unpleasant, however—not when she had the mental image of his moistened face pressed up between her legs, hair thoroughly disheveled as he pumped his fingers into her, pupils blown. She immediately regretted bringing that image into her mind as a painful throb burned its way between her legs.

 

Rey, trying to convince herself that Kylo Ren was _absolutely not_ capable of completely ruining her with just his mouth, had attempted to go grocery shopping that morning with her newfound funds. The second she'd tried to get up however, her legs had bowed beneath her, unable to even carry her own weight, sending her crashing onto her living room floor - because _of course_ she hadn't even made it to her bed last night.

 

 _Fuck it,_ she scowled to herself, and she grabbed onto the sofa to pull herself up. She was going to finish this shop if she was fueled only by pure spite alone.

 

It'd been an odd morning. Rey usually had to scrape coins together just to manage her biweekly trip to the store, and everything was calculated precisely to afford her meager rations. This usually involved a search through her entire flat, scrounging whatever pennies she could find just to be able to afford an extra tin. But now, Rey had more spare cash than she'd ever had in her life. She could buy whatever she wanted, whatever impulsive desires she had could be fulfilled. Yet, she still found herself mulling over which tin of value beans to throw into her cart.

 

She _had_ treated herself, however, to a pack of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. At a price of five dollars, they had once been _way_ out of her price range; however, she was moneyed enough to freely feast on them in one go, lounging in her car in the parking lot outside the market, licking her sticky-sweet fingers, blissfully grateful for Kylo Ren's mouth and his money.

 

Rey felt the need to crawl back into bed the second she'd unpacked the last of her cans into the cupboard, sheathing herself inside a comforter, feeling her legs throb in protest as she tossed and turned. She groaned upon remembering that she was scheduled for a shift at Plutt's that evening, and she sunk further into the covers.

 

Yes, Kylo's money was _more_ than enough to keep her going without her having to trudge around a warehouse, attempting to avoid the grotesque, old bastard that employed her. Rey knew people were fickle, though, and she was entirely certain that Kylo Ren would turn out to be no different. The second she started to depend on him would be the second he, his well-fitted suits, and his asshole car evaporated into non-existence. That's just how life goes.

 

Seconds before she was fully embraced by sleep, she heard the doorbell go off. She lay motionless for quite some time, unwilling to stand, praying that her visitor will get the hint. They didn’t; the bell rang three more times in succession, and Rey winced as she stood, walking lamely towards the front door.

 

It rang two more times, and Rey was frustrated enough to call out, “I’m here! Christ,” as her hand reached for the doorknob.

 

She was taken aback when she realized that the austere man standing before her was entirely unfamiliar, and the same goes for the handful of strangers standing behind him. They were all decked out in suits, and, for a fleeting moment, Rey was convinced some sort of government department had come to snatch her away for fiscal fraud.

 

The man certainly _looked_ like he could get her imprisoned for fraud, and she had a gut feeling that he'd enjoy it too. He was tall and gaunt with a pasty face that contrasted his oiled, auburn hair, and he stood with a demeanor that was this side of exasperated. So, she stood, equally as irritating, and she was tempted to smart-mouth the man—“No, I don’t want your girl scout cookies,” she thought to say—so that he’d fuck off her doorstep.

 

Rey made a move to open her mouth but the men behind the redhead sprang into action, hauling an unreasonably large, wrapped gift box into her living room without a word. She was decidedly aware that she really ought to be asking _who the fuck_ was in her apartment and what was in this suspicious package, but before she could even fathom what to say the man and his entourage were gone, leaving her to stand in a dazed silence with her door still open.

 

After what felt like an eternity of putting two and two together, Rey, with her mouth still hanging open, shut the door and turned to the two packages on the floor. They were relatively big, with one needing two of the burly men to carry it in. They were wrapped in a sleek black wrapping paper, with flecks of gold leaf shining where the light hit it.

 

She looked down at the envelope that was in her hands and gasped as she glanced over to the one on her makeshift coffee table. Not that she even had to check they were the same, she'd opened and read his note at least 20 times just that morning, each time sending a new spasm through her chest and between her legs. _It was from him._

 

She carefully opened the envelope, intentionally taking her time in sliding her fingers through the paper, not wanting it to be over too soon. When she looked inside there was another note, this time on a fairly expensive looking piece of card.

 

_“Miss Rey,_

 

_Please accept these gifts. Know that I paid but a fraction of what I would just to settle between your thighs once more. To taste you was an epiphany._

 

_Yours,_

 

_Kylo Ren_

 

_Ps. If, at any point in the next couple of days, you’re feeling particularly grateful for my generosity, I implore you to stop by my office.”_

 

An address, a floor level, and a room number—his office, Rey presumed—was listed just below the invitation.

 

She couldn't help but grin as she stroked her thumb over his surprisingly professional lettering— _because of course Kylo Ren would know fucking calligraphy,_ she thought to herself.

 

Rey had never thought much of her name before, but, _oh,_ she did like the way it looked in his hand, all three letters joined in one fluid motion, appearing regal on the ostentatious card. She, in that moment, took pride in her designation.

 

Once she had read and reread the card more times than she'd care to admit, she fixed her gaze on the arcane package that sat itself in the middle of her living room floor. Her mind reeled, and she wondered what a man like Kylo Ren considered a ‘gift.’ Judging by the size and weight of it, it had to be pretty substantial.

 

Rey perversely visualized an array of obscene toys that Kylo might’ve picked out with her in mind, and she flushed at the thought. She hoped he wasn't into oviposition or any weird shit like that—it’s common knowledge that rich people have strange sexual interests; at least, Rose claimed they did.

 

Curious, she knelt down on the floor next to it, crossing her legs gently. She smoothed her hand over the decorative wrap, her fingers catching on the flecks of gold leaf, already impressed by the glossy wrapping paper. Rey was pretty sure the paper alone had cost more than her trip to the market this morning.

 

She pulled the paper apart slowly at the folds, not wanting to rip inordinately expensive paper— it was Rose's birthday soon, and who was she to waste good _reusable_ paper? She slipped the edges open at the side and pulled the paper away slowly, revealing an all-too-recognizable white box.

 

_No fucking way._

 

Rey ripped the rest of the paper off— _to hell with saving it,_ she thought to herself—and she could barely fathom what she was seeing before her. There, lying in the ruins of the sleek paper was a gift-wrapped, pristine, white box, complete with a red bow encircling it; the telltale Apple logo shined from just beneath the ribbon.

 

Her heart in her throat, she tore at the ribbon and fumbled for the opening of the box, fingers shaking as she pried it open. Inside was a number of smaller boxes, each gift wrapped with their own red bow and a small white label.

 

She pulled out the biggest box first, sliding her hand along the smooth packaging until it touched upon the label. She glanced at it:

 

_"For being my good girl."_

 

There he went again. _Good girl._

 

She swallowed roughly, her breathing becoming a bit uneven. It was the same writing that had been on the envelope, the same exquisite print. She tore the bow to pieces and exposed the contents of the first gift.

 

 _Yes,_ Rey loved technology, loved the way all the pieces fit together to make something coherent, loved the way she knew what each tiny part did and how it interacted with other components. It was predictable, and it was safe. What _wasn't_ predictable, however, was that a man she'd met on the internet no more than ten days ago had bought her a _fucking MacBook Pro._

 

She shut the lid immediately, burying her face into her clammy hands. There were still 3 more parcels to go.

 

She picked up the second, knowing exactly what it was the minute she felt the weight of it in her hands. Again, she found the label and flicked it over between her fingers, letting out a breath as she read:

 

_"For letting me taste you.”_

 

Rey refused to think about the way _“taste”_ looked in his handwriting; there were more important matters at hand. She slid the ribbon off and lifted the lid to look inside.

 

If Kylo Ren hadn't been making a mockery of her when he'd sent her a laptop, he sure as hell had when he'd sent her the iPhone along with it. Though tempted to turn it on and play around for a while, she delicately sat it beside the Macbook and steamed, ensconcing herself on the floor as she positioned her gifts around her, looking as though she were a spoiled child pulling toys from under the Christmas tree.

 

She opened up the last two boxes in quick succession just to get the whole thing over with. The first was a nude Beats Headset: " _For letting me hear your pretty, little noises._ " Rey really had to ignore the throb between her legs for that one, shifting on the floor a little to ease the stress.

 

The final box was the smallest, containing a Hermes Apple Watch enveloped with another label: " _For being on time for our future meetings."_

 

And so, Rey sat on her living room floor, surrounded by ravaged, gold-flecked paper, discarded, red ribbons, and nearly $8000 worth of tech. Tears began to swell in her eyes until they formed great, big droplets that she hastily wiped from her cheeks.

 

Unpleasant memories crept their way into her mind, and Rey pushed the gifts further away from her sitting form. If she closed her wet eyes, she’d see herself clutching her stomach night after night, her body howling for some sort of sustenance, anything, _anything…_

 

She remembered her washing machine calling it quits a few sweltering summers ago, and, because she was unable to afford the pieces and parts necessary to repair the appliance herself, she’d gone three months without washing her clothing. The stiff, grungy fabric had stuck to her skin and made her itch all day long; she’d never felt so dirty in all her life.

 

Rey recalled perching herself atop the bathroom counter, scrubbing her grimy skin with wet wipes and, when she ran out of those, a worn rag dipped in frigid tap water. The liquid that poured from the valve was tinted yellow, and she wondered if it was even safe enough to bathe herself with it—they had shut her hot water off. It was January.

 

 _And he,_ Rey thought, glowering at the carpet, _delivers these expensive “gifts” to my doorstep with a big red bow on top… like it’s easy… like it’s cute… like it means nothing, and, for him, it doesn’t._

 

The money had been something else. It meant something different to Rey—she was offering something he coveted, and, in return, he paid her. But, _this…_ having him drop off some immoderate goody bag on her depleted doorstep just to show that he could… _God,_ it made her skin crawl.

 

She could _never_ do that for someone she cared about—not for Rose, not for anyone. She could never blow a paycheck like that, could never splurge on meaningless gifts for her loved ones. Kylo Ren, though, had the means to do _just that_ , for _anybody_ , for _her,_ a girl he’d just met not even two weeks ago.

 

 _Maybe,_ thinks Rey, rationalizing, _he meant well. Maybe the gifts were a sort of incentive for her to hold up her end of the deal._

 

That doesn’t matter one bit to her, though. She isn’t angered by his intent; she’s angered by his ignorance, by his wastefulness, and by his oh-so-superior way of life. He’d just waved his wallet in her face, _that asshole,_ and now he expected a display of _gratitude?_

 

She frantically hunted down the little card with his work address scrawled beautifully at the bottom.

 

She’d show him fucking _gratitude._

 

***

 

Ben sat, leaning back in his leather seat, an unhindered, delicate smile still plastered on his face as he looked out across the city with his finger pressed to his lips. He'd never been one to appreciate a view, but even he couldn't deny that the picture was quite charming. He looked out upon the grey, dismal buildings that had once seemed so unappealing, and he saw, instead, a city bathed in the orange warmth of a gentle sun, a jungle of gleaming, slatish skyscrapers.

 

He could carry on pretending that it was the agreeable weather causing him to feel this way, but he knew the real reason. In fact, he could still taste it on his tongue.

 

His grin unwittingly grew wider, but he was forced to squander it the second he heard a firm knock on his door. He swiveled his chair back so that it faced the doorway, and he lifted his polished Ferragamos, crossing one over the other atop his desk; morphing into the perfect picture of nonchalance in just seconds.

 

“Enter,” he announced, but he regretted that as soon as he saw who was waiting for him behind the door.

 

The nauseating, pasty man stood in the doorway, stoic as ever, he addressed the executive with a simple, “Sir.”

 

"Ah, _Hux,_ " Ben began, making no attempt to hide his contempt. "I trust even _you_ were able to follow my elementary instructions."

 

Kylo enjoyed toying with the man, even on pleasant days such as this one. Winding up Armitage Hux was one of his favorite pastimes; it ranked second only to his _newfound_ hobby.

 

"The package has been delivered," Mr. Hux stated, cold and formal, "It seems to be an awful waste of company resources to go chasing such ... _mediocre_ partnerships, _Sir."_

 

Ben insincerely considered this cutting remark, furrowing his brows as if deep in thought. He then removed his shoes from the desktop in order to swivel back towards the window, but not before biting back: "Such a shame, then, that you will _never_ be in charge of this company's resources.”

 

He heard the man’s shoes squeak as he abruptly turned to exit the office, but Ben halted him with, "Oh, and one more thing. Tell Mitaka: should a woman—a slim, personable brunette who answers to “Miss Rey”—come walking through the front doors, he is to send her _directly_ to my office. That will be all.”

 

Hux ground his teeth from where he stood, fingers gripping the doorknob. He made no move to affirm that the order would be carried out.

 

"I believe I asked you to _do_ something, Armitage,” Ben spat, his back still turned to the man. “ _That will be all._ ”

 

Ben released a shaky breath the second the man retreated from his office—on his way out, the petty assistant had “forgotten” to shut the door entirely, so it remained open just a crack—and he had to restrain himself from bouncing in his seat like an overjoyed toddler.

 

He couldn’t help but fantasize about Rey turning up eventually, all but dazed at the scale of his offices. He wondered, for a moment, just how _appreciative_ his Rey could be. He wondered if she’d step inside his office all meek and mild, biting those pretty, pink lips, a harsh blush dusting her freckled cheeks— _Will she be shy today? Will she spread herself open on my desk like a good girl,_ Kylo muses, _or will she be the little minx I know she’s capable of being?_

 

He let out an unintentional groan at the mere _thought_ of her legs spread before him once again.

 

Ben Solo didn't do _this._ He had never once told a _client_ his real name; he'd stayed hidden behind his online pseudonym so that he could remain distant and untraceable, always _just_ out of reach from those jilted girls he no longer wanted on his payroll.

 

Now, though? _Now_ he was giving some bothersome, unkempt nineteen-year-old his _personal addresses_ on the off chance she'd turn up and brighten his day with her coy smile, her radiant skin, and her sweet, dripping cunt.

 

 _If Rey were to undo two of the three buttons on those ratty jeans she always seems to wear,_ Ben thought to himself, _I’d probably tell her my social security number if it meant she’d undo the third._

 

And _oh,_ the taste of her had been ineffable - _divine._ To feel her quivering on his tongue had truly been the closest thing Ben had ever felt to a spiritual experience. Hearing her choked gasps, feeling her arousal drip down his chin and fingers… it was enough to make him want to get down on his knees and sanctify her right then and there.

And, _God,_ Ben really hoped she was grateful. He hoped she'd let him slip her bargain-basement-priced clothing off her lean, little body, unwrapping her as if she were the true gift. They’d show their thanks together; her for the electronics, and him for that sickly-sweet haven resting between her thighs.

 

Ben _insisted_ that his body had achieved full autonomy when he began ever-so-slightly, absentmindedly brushing his fingers up and down the prominent bulge standing proud within his fitted, navy slacks. Surely, if his mind were in control, he wouldn’t _dare_ to do such a thing; anyone, _anyone,_ could enter and see the chief executive officer playing with himself— _that’d be depraved,_ Ben thinks. _Scandalous,_ really.

 

Ben was by _no means_ a selfish lover—he’d grown quite fond of giving rather than taking, actually—but the mere thought of Rey expressing her gratitude with those prepossessing, accommodating lips of hers… he’d wrap her brown tresses around his knuckles, and she’d bob her head up and down his cock, taking him all the way like a good, little—

 

_Fuck._

 

Ben had gotten himself all worked up, his collar feeling a little too tight around his neck. Eying the door, which was slightly ajar thanks to his piece-of-shit hired hand, he breathed heavily, rationalizing.

 

He knew no one would _dare_ enter his office without knocking, and once he fully registered that, he hastily unzipped his slacks, clumsily reaching his hand past his boxers in order to palm himself. A breathy moan escaped his lips as he thrust into his own hand, the heat of his own palm simultaneously too much and not enough.

 

He knew—God, he just fucking _knew_ —that his cock would look so nice and big in her callused, little hands. He knew she'd work him good, pumping him desperate and messy, as if her life depended on it.

 

He sank his teeth into the side of his index finger in order to to repress a moan as he pulled at himself, wondering just how deep she’d be prepared to take him. Would she choke? Would she stop? Would she let him fuck her face, eyes watering, spit dripping down her chin as she took it like a good girl— _No,_ Ben quickly edits his thoughts, _like_ **_my_ ** _good girl._

 

And _that_ is when Ben Solo had an earth-shattering revelation. Thrusting into his own tight fist, precum leaking onto his navy trousers, leaving treacherous stains behind as he choked back moans, biting down on his finger - he realized: _I am a ruined man._

 

He was delirious, now, it seemed. He pulled his finger from between his teeth and began coaxing at his balls, hair falling over his eyes, disheveled, as he let his head fall back against the leather seat, groaning freely so that anyone who walked by might get an earful.

 

That's when Ben Solo had another realization.

 

_He was being watched._

 

***

 

By the time Rey reached the business quarter, her mood had only moderately improved. As she paced towards the gleaming network of New York high-rises, she grew less impulsive and more crafty by the second.

 

She was well aware, at that point, that Kylo hadn't _meant_ to offend her with his gifts; he was just obtuse. What more could she expect from an insensitive executive, especially one so ignorant of the lives of those less fortunate than him? He’d probably anticipated that she'd be thrilled, that she’d spread her legs open for him again as a display of thanks— _Fat chance,_ she thought searingly.

 

Rey realized, then, that her plan was rather undeveloped, with no surefire way of even getting close to the _eminent_ Kylo Ren. She wondered, for a moment, if that was his real name. She figured it wasn’t, though. Even he wasn’t pompous enough to earn _that_ at birth. He would likely be surrounded by an abundance of security and ass-kissers that she’d have to avoid to the best of her ability.

 

She halted in front of an impressive, metallic structure and scrutinized the placard just near the revolving doors, squinting her eyes a little: **First Order Enterprises.** It wasn’t the inviting sort of neighborhood font Rey was accustomed to seeing on her block, and the building looked as though even that was despondent. She didn’t like how bleak this sector of New York was. An odd part of her wished Kylo didn’t have to be subjected to such a thing diurnally.

 

 _If I had to pass by all these muted colors and these stony expressions every day,_ Rey thought to herself, _I’d probably be an asshole, too._

 

She entered the building, gawking at the fine interior furnishing. She was in awe of the architecture, of the immaculate marble flooring and intricate glass adornments.

 

While inspecting the high ceilings and the detailed fittings, Rey noticed the man at the front desk eyeing her with what looked like suspicion. She hastily reached into her jean pocket to procure the little slip on which he’d calligraphed his details: _level 55, room 327._ With this bit of information, she could pointedly avoid the mistrustful man, head straight for the elevators, and—

 

“ _Miss Rey_?” called the receptionist in a quavering voice, calling out into the oddly quiet spacious room.

 

Rey’s body went rigid at the sound of her own name. She stepped forward with hesitation, irrationally fearful of being thrown out onto the sidewalk by burly security. “Yes?”

 

The squirrelly man examined her from behind the desk before stepping out and greeting her, gesturing towards himself as he began walking, as if to say “follow me.”

 

“My name is Dopheld Mitaka, and I’ve been ordered to... _directly_ escort you to the boss’ office,” the man—Dopheld—spoke mechanically, like he’d practiced a script. “We’d best not keep him waiting, Miss Rey.”

 

Rey couldn’t help but notice how utterly wrong the title sounded coming from anyone else’s mouth but Kylo’s. The endearment was meant to be spoken by him, and him alone, it seemed.

 

Though his face remained slack and expressionless during the entirety of the elevator ride, Rey sensed that Dopheld was even more anxious than she was. Sweat pooled on his forehead and he swallowed rather harshly several times. She wondered, for a moment, if it was Kylo himself who incited this fear. She figured he was, rather unsurprisingly, monstrous to work with, and Rey couldn’t help but pity her designated shepherd.

 

The elevator doors parted with a chime, and she allowed Dopheld to guide her down the narrow hallway. They passed by doorway after doorway until the secretary halted in front of one that was slightly ajar. From inside, a muffled groan could be heard.

 

“He’s expecting you,” Dopheld spoke, motioning towards the door handle before making his way, a little _too_ briskly, back down the corridor, returning to the elevator.

 

Rey took notice of the silver panel adhered to Kylo’s door, and, though puzzled at first, her expression morphed into something entirely mischievous, a smirk pulling at her lips. The polished plaque read:

 

**#327**

**Ben Solo**

**Chief Executive Officer**

 

“Ben Solo,” she whispers to herself, admiring the designation smugly. Her fingers traced the engraved lettering of his true name. “ _Gotcha._ ”

 

 _“Kylo Ren” was an asshole name, anyway,_ Rey thought decidedly before pushing against the open door with the pads of her fingers, utilizing her newfound confidence.

 

There he sat, his back to the door, admiring the city skyline as if it belonged to him. The top of his head peeked over the back of his chair, and she took a moment to delight in his wild shock of hair. It was far more unkempt than it had been at the restaurant yesterday, and Rey wanted nothing more than to run the rough pads of her fingers through his locks; her fingers twitched.

 

He turned ‘round in his chair, then, and every ounce of blood drained from Rey’s determined face. She observed the picture before her; Kylo—no, _Ben_ —peered up at her standing figure from across the room, his eyes blown wide. With his legs splayed, Rey could see that the man’s sizeable hand was stuffed down his cramped slacks, and he thrusted into his palm shamelessly, keeping his eyes on the woman before him.

 

 _Oh… my God,_ Rey thought, bereft of breath.

 

“Are you… are you _getting off?_ **_Here?_** ” Rey squeaked incredulously, her anger momentarily dissolving into pure shock. “You are! Don’t you know the door is still open, you _pervert?_ ”

 

In the blink of an eye, his expression metamorphosed from one of desire to one of disdain, because, _of course,_ he would have the gall to be the one annoyed in this situation.

 

“ _Miss Rey_ ,” he began, his voice dripping with nonchalance, “what makes you think you can come to my office in the middle of the day and talk to me like _that?_ Where are your manners? You were _much_ more respectful last night—all those _please_ s and _thank-you_ _s_ …” he tsked, tucking himself back into his boxers and tugging the zipper up with reluctance.

 

Rey flushed at his recount of her behavior last night, and anger bubbled up inside her once more.

 

“Excuse me… _my manners?_ ”—she laughed wryly in disbelief— _“_ You’re sat here, playing with yourself in an unlocked office, and you have the audacity to criticize _my_ manners,” she spoke bitingly. “You’re _depraved._ ”

 

Ben swallowed roughly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and he absentmindedly brushed his fingers over the flagging erection, which was straining rather harshly against his pant seams.

 

“Rey, I…”—he swept aside the strands of hair that fell in front of his eyes—“I couldn’t _stop_ thinking about you; I was up for hours, thinking about the way you taste, thinking about the way your pretty little lips opened wide as you came for me… and those sweet-sounding whimpers I pulled out of you… _Fuck_ ,” he breathed out, looking almost neurotic then.

 

“I keep replaying them in my mind, _over and over._ I thought about getting you something special for letting me taste you last night—something electronic, something that could be of use in your classes—but there were so many items I figured you’d like, so I narrowed it down to four and bought all of them.”

 

He cleared his throat, composing himself before finishing the thought. “I _thought_ you’d be pleased to see me, pleased with your gifts. I thought you’d… nevermind.”

 

Rey broiled with frustration, registering every word that came from his lips.

 

“You thought, because you sent me 8k worth of fancy electronics, I’d fall to my knees and _service_ you, didn’t you?” Rey accuses, prowling towards his sitting form. “You thought I’d be more than happy to show my _gratitude._ ”

 

“ _Christ,_ Rey, I never assumed that you’d… service me,” he responded, and he couldn’t meet her eyes, staring down at the tent in his trousers instead. “Though, I did hope you’d stop by to… show your thanks—”

 

“I knew it!” Rey proclaimed, baring her teeth a bit. “Asshole.”

 

“—but I can see now that it’s out of the question,” he continued, checking the grin that threatened to shape his lips as a result of her disruptive outburst. “I apologize if I offended you in any way, Rey. I had no intention of upsetting you, of making you feel as if you are anything less than _priceless_.”

 

He spoke sincerely, and Rey took delight in being referred to as “priceless,” but she had more to say, and, at that point, after walking the entire distance between her ramshackle apartment and this superstructure, she felt it’d be best to come out and say it.

 

“I _am_ thankful,” she admitted, less contempt than before. “It’s just… it means _nothing_ to you, and that makes my blood boil. You have no idea what it’s like to be denied something you want, do you? To not get your way?”

 

Ben became defensive, and he opened his mouth to say, “That’s not true,” but Rey held a slender finger up to silence him, and, for some odd, inexplicable reason, he shut his mouth. She didn’t miss the slight wobbling of his lower lip.

 

“ _Shh,_ ” she hushed him softly, abruptly serene, before bringing her finger up to her own lip to complete the gesture. “Did I _say_ you could speak? It’s my turn, Kylo.”

 

Ben squeezed his eyes shut, suppressing the pitiful whine that threatened to escape his lips. Still seated, he shifted in his chair ever-so-slightly and glanced down at his painfully-confined erection, which was, at that moment, begging for Rey’s undivided attention.

 

Rey glanced down, too, and saw the way his fingers trembled against the fabric of his pant leg, so close to where he needed them to be.

 

“Show me,” Rey spoke decidedly, standing, then, on the other side of his sleek, U-shaped executive desk, each of her hands pressed flat against the surface.

 

Ben, puzzled, met her eyes. “ _Excuse me?_ ”

 

“You’re just _aching_ to get yourself off, aren’t you?” Rey questioned, entirely unfamiliar with the authoritative tone her voice took on. The words had rushed up her throat and escaped her mouth before she could even fathom what they meant. “Go on, then. Show me how you were touching yourself before, _filthy boy._ Humor me.”

 

His face was positively florid, and the redness dusted his skin all the way up to the tips of his ears, which peaked out from between strands of dark, disheveled hair. Rey was monumentally annoyed that he looked especially good while flustered, and she found herself wanting nothing more than to brush her fingertips against the pink shells of his ears.

 

Rey wasn’t quite sure what she anticipated, but she didn’t expect the man to fumble with his zipper so hastily, fingers shaking. She didn’t expect his eyes to look so big and eager, or for him to splay his legs and free his cock with a pathetic whimper; it was as red as his sanguine face, hard, and heavy, and _throbbing_ in his veiny fist.

 

Ben brushed his thumb over the weeping tip, and Rey observed, utterly entranced. She visualized her diminutive fingers wrapped around his cock, and she not-so-subtly squeezed her legs together. The motion did not go unnoticed by him, and he smiled rather smugly in response to it.

 

She couldn’t have that.

 

“What’s that smile for? I’ve seen bigger,” she tsked, looking upon him now as if she were silently criticizing every aspect. “Not much to write home about, is it?”

 

He huffed, peering up at her with his angel eyes, pleading wordlessly.

 

“Go on, you _pervert,_ ” she goaded him on, leaning forward over the desk so that her face was only a foot away from his now. “Show me what you were doing before I walked in. I won’t ask again.”

 

Ben moaned, low and drawn out, and Rey reached up to brush a loose strand of hair behind his blushing ears. He shuddered under her gentle touch, so she purposely brushed the pad of her finger across his cheek afterwards, just to feel him tremble for her once more.

 

He began pumping himself steadily, wiping at the precum that had gathered at his tip to slide his hand back down, now slick to his shaft. It was obscene, watching his palm swallow up his girth over and over again a leisurely pace.

 

"It’s pathetic,” Rey scolds him. _“_ You could pay me to do absolutely anything for you, and _this_ is what you choose to do instead? Useless, dirty boy."

 

He was whimpering for her now, and Rey huffed out a laugh at the pitched noise. This 6’3 titan of a man was truly ready to fall at her feet and beg, and she was more than ready to make him do so. The sight of him so wide-eyed and desperate had Rey becoming rather red in the face herself.

 

“ _Please,_ Rey,” Ben pleaded, gazing up at her through half-lidded eyes. “Please, please, please, kitten. I’ll do anything so long as it gets you to touch me.”

 

“ _Anything?_ ” she mocked, and it was as if they were still lying on his silken bedsheets in his high-rise apartment.

 

“Anything,” he assured her.

 

She furrowed her brows in mock concentration, as if she were quite deep in thought. “Hmm… _No._ I think I’ll keep my hands right here”—she drummed them atop the stiff mahogany— “so as not to get them all _filthy._ ”

 

Ben Solo, at that point, was a fucking wreck. He’d never surrendered himself to someone so willingly before—as a matter of fact, he’d never surrendered himself to anyone _at all_ before—and his cock twitched as she loomed over his perspiring frame, grinning down at him, delighting in his agony.

 

“I think you’re forgetting, _kitten,_ ” he provoked her, thinking himself rather smart, “how much you enjoyed coming on Daddy’s tongue. Remember that? Last night, when you begged for my touch, when I pulled all those pretty, little noises from your throat… don’t you remember that?”

 

He was attempting to break her, then, with his coy smile and flinty tone - but she remained entirely cool and collected, much to Ben’s dismay. He pouted his lip and raised his brows, feigning innocence— _what an absolute_ **_brat,_ ** she thought to herself.

 

Rey reached forward to grab a handful of his unkempt mop of hair before yanking it backwards, lifting his chin.

“I remember _every second_ of it, of course. How could I ever forget the night _Ben Solo_ came in his pants right in front of me?” she teased, and Ben was done for the second his true name fell from her lips.

 

“Now, why don’t you keep playing with yourself, _daddy?_ It’ll make your kitten so happy.”

 

Throwing his own words back at him had an instantaneous effect, and he moved his arm out to reach for her.

 

“ _Ah, ah, ah_.” she rejected, moving out of reach. “Keep touching that useless dick. I want to see you come all over your designer suit like the depraved man you are.”

 

His hand sped up, his eyes rolling back into his head, and she could tell he was only seconds away from oblivion.

 

And Ben looked up at her then, eyes wide, begging for her as he gripped at himself desperately, like a man lost.

 

“ _Rey,”_ he groaned out, his voice rather strained.

 

The way he’d said her name, broken like a prayer, an invocation, a supplication for her mercy, had been the last straw for Rey and, before she could decide against it, she crossed the desk and dropped to her knees.

 

She crawled over to him, slowly, dragging out each movement her limbs had to make to reach him. He was past the point of no return, eyes almost watering as he continued to pump himself, mouthing breathless praises to her as she propped herself up at his thighs.

 

She grinned before clenching her fist on the base of his dick, stopping his orgasm in its tracks. This action earned a desperate, pitiful groan from him. Seeing her on her knees in front of him made his eyes light up with something close to complete adoration, and she knew she had him by the balls, _literally_.

 

Keeping her hand tight on his cock, she teased his head with little kitten licks, licking over and under the slit where he was most sensitive. She teased his balls and let his dick slip from between her lips with a lewd _pop_ , rubbing his precum all over her face, coating herself in his essence.

 

“Rey… so beautiful… the most b-beautiful girl in the whole fucking world, I—” Ben blathered on, entirely frenzied— _Christ,_ Rey thought, admiring the view, having never seen a man so thoroughly wrecked before.

 

She abruptly took him into the back of her throat, savoring the feeling of her lips stretched all the way around him. He cried out, and some of those tears that had built up due to frustration managed to spill over, crawling down his cheeks as he attempted to thrust into Rey’s mouth; she gagged as he clumsily drove himself past her lips over, and over, and over again. She felt his thighs start to shake, and his hands tenderly petted her brown tresses as if she were something precious and fragile.

 

It was _right_ then, with his considerable, warm fingers stroking her hair, that she decided she wanted him to come undone for her, to fill her mouth and experience even a shred of the ecstacy he’d given her.

 

“Come …” she ordered, clearing her throat, looking up at him with big eyes. “Come in my mouth. I… I want you to. I want to taste you, Ben. _Please._ ”

 

His eyes seemed to glaze over as he registered her words, and it only took a few more jerky thrusts before he was falling apart at the seams, keeping her head in place as he filled her waiting mouth with thick ropes of cum, grunting and groaning gutturally in between the slew of profane exclamations. The man slumped back into his chair once he finished, boneless.

 

 _Have a taste of your own medicine_ , a wicked voice bubbled up from within her as she refused to stop, still sucking at his head while after swallowing a mouthful of his spend. Annoyingly, even _that_ had tasted pleasant.

 

“Rey,” he untangled his fingers from her head of hair, bringing them up to smooth down his own, which looked, at that moment, entirely untamed. I came - _enough_!”

 

She tilted her head in mock concern, cleaning him off, reveling in the way his thighs tensed and shuddered with overstimulation.

 

 _Good_.

 

He offered her his hand and helped her up, picking her up with one arm and placing her on top of his desk.

 

And, _God,_ if he didn’t look like a ruined man, hair falling from his head in every direction, slicked to his brow with sweat. His lips were raw, and pink, and swollen from where he’d bitten down on them to choke down his moans. His shirt had somehow become creased and unbuttoned, and his slacks… they were _definitely_ going to need to be sent out for dry cleaning.

 

Once she was perched on his desk, he kissed her like she was a wellspring in the desert, and she felt herself getting even wetter, despite the aching she still felt between her legs.

 

“Kylo, I can’t. I’m still sore from yesterday,” she told him begrudgingly. “I had to sit on a bag of frozen peas this morning.”

 

“Poor kitten. I worked you too hard, didn’t I? I just couldn’t get enough of you.” He chuckled, bringing his hand up to stroke at her cheek. “I’ll give that sweet pussy a break today, but next time I might not be so nice. I need to taste you again, and _soon_.”

 

She leaned down from where she was positioned on the desk, using his tie to guide his body towards her, pressing her lips against his plush, puffy ones. Rey wondered, then, if he could taste himself on her tongue. They were lost in each other, and, for a moment, she forgot about their arrangement, forgot about his wealth, forgot her own _name_ due to the feeling of his mouth slotted on hers, coaxing sighs from her lips.

 

"The next time I see you, Rey, " he began, caressing her cheek with the pad of his thumb and using his other hand to tilt her chin down so that she may meet his eyes, honeyed amber in the orange glow of the morning, "I’m going to take you roughly, _intimately._ I'm going to show you, _Rey,_ how good your perfect, little body can feel when… _used properly._ I’ll worship you divinely; that way, you’ll never again think yourself unworthy of being showered with expensive gifts.”

 

Rey nodded, her head lolling to rest against his firm shoulder. His voice was soft and sincere as he moved his hands down to clasp her thighs, each one big enough to almost wrap around them entirely. She was left breathless by his promising words and searching eyes, stretching out her thighs as his hands pushed closer to her center, thumbs just teasing at the ratty denim. Her nerves crooned lovely melodies and painful warnings, and her body walked the fine line between arousal and discomfort. But, oh, she could stay just like this, pinned beneath his warm, unrelenting hands, and never mind the aches and pains.

 

He stood, then, his form nearly swallowed her up as he loomed over her, hunched forward, crowding her lower and lower to the table, her hands scrambling for purchase on the polished wood, slipping herself backwards _until_ —

 

It took her a second to realize what she'd touched. The small leather object that was now trapped between her palm and the table. A wicked simper split her face, then, as her fingers curled around the item, glancing down to recognize the same brown tan that he'd so graciously presented to her before.

 

His _wallet._

 

It was Ben Solo's turn to be breathless, then, his hard eyes flicking between her sinful smile and her lithe fingers that had wrapped themselves around the billfold. She sat up on the desk, pushing him back with just the weight of her eyes, locked onto his as she bought it up to her face.

 

"I'm going to show you, _Ben,"_ she started, mocking his tone from before as she flipped the leather wing open, "how good it can feel when your money is… _used properly."_

 

With that, she slipped her slender fingers inside, not daring to blink as he held her eyes. She pulled out several notes, which happened to be hundred dollar bills, and placed his tan wallet back down on the table, right where she’d found it.

 

“And, by ‘used properly,’ I mean: used to purchase several packs of Cinnabons,” Rey snickered, rather pleased with herself.

 

He went to speak, then, looking as if he might reprimand her for her unruly behavior, for her gall— _silly, little minx,_ Ben thought, opening his mouth to object, **_I_ ** _decide how much she’s earned._

 

"R—"

 

A single syllable managed to escape his throat before Rey’s finger pressed decidedly against his lips, _shushing_ him once again. His eyes widened significantly, and his brows rose ever-so-slightly in response; they weren’t even playing the game anymore, but she shushed him nonetheless. Based on his reaction alone, Rey would wager that _no one_ had _ever_ told Ben Solo to shut up before. She hummed, finding this newfound authority over him to be quite pleasant.

 

She dragged her finger down a bit, tugging his bottom lip, plumping the soft, pink skin as a hint of moisture wetted her thumb. He pouted his lips, then, still refusing to break away from her gaze as he delicately kissed her fingertip, letting out a ragged, warm breath into her palm. He resisted the urge to take her forefinger into his mouth, letting it sink past his lips knuckle by knuckle— _my God,_ Ben thought, allowing lips to brush against her skin again. _This little street rat has broken me._

 

The feeling of his wet lips grazing over her index finger became all too overwhelming soon after he’d begun. She managed to collect herself as she pulled away from him, folding the bills she'd swiped from his wallet and reaching under her shirt to deposit the money inside of her bra. In one swift movement, she jumped from the table and crossed the room, making sure to flash a gentle, sincere smile to the man that still stood speechless at his desk.

 

“One last thing,” she spoke, stopped in the doorway. “The next time we see each other, you _are_ going to fuck me; rough and intimate, just like you promised… but not before eating me out again”—she absentmindedly brought her thumb up to caress her own lips, though she seemed rather fixated on _his_ lips at that moment—“Put that mouth to good use, Ben Solo; it’s what you were _made_ for.”

 

Then, she was gone, leaving Ben Solo alone and disorientated, his slacks stained, his wallet empty, and his heart nearly beating out of his ribcage.


	6. Chapter 6

It was his eighth glass of whiskey that night.

 

Strewn over his Italian leather chaise lounge, Ben’s vicuna-wool-clad feet bobbed in the air, and he propped up his head with his own fist, the skin of his cheek creasing where it met his sharp knuckles. He wore ostentatious, Prussian blue joggers with red and white detailing, and a matching jacket, unzipped so that his chest was left bare. (It was Gucci, and it was itchy, but Ben Solo _ insisted _ that it was comfortable; he was seemingly unaware of the difference between “comfortable” and “expensive.”)

 

In his unrestricted hand, he balanced a tumbler glass, examining the way the low, orange light bounced off its textured rim as he twisted it, the reflection mingling with the purple hues of his darkened living suite.

 

He reached for the all-but-empty, blue-labeled bottle of Johnnie Walker’s Oldest, scowling the second he realized he’d pretty much drained it already. Those bottles were over seven-hundred dollars a pop, and he’d knocked it back like it was fresh iced water… all because of  _ her. _

 

“ _ Please.” _

 

That’s what he’d said to her. He’d spoken the words pathetically, clear as day, and, to add insult to injury, he’d spoken them in public. No more than thirty feet from his nearest employee. Ben groaned, remembering how pitiful he’d looked when he stumbled out of his office and into the nearest restroom, his Ferragamos frantically squeaking against the black floor tiles as he lurched towards the sink, desperate to get a look at himself, to assess the damage that little  _ brat _ had done. 

 

He’d been a sight indeed. His hair had adhered to his forehead due to the sticky sheen of sweat that glazed his face, and his cheeks were  _ so _ ruddy he looked as if he were running a temperature of one-oh-six. His pupils were blown so wide he could hardly make out the color of his own irises. The cool water he’d splashed on his face and through his hair had done little to quell the burning that seethed in his chest and crawled its way up ‘round his ears. 

 

He’d taken the rest of the day off, commanding Armitage to have the Silencer—yes, he named his Porsche,  _ sue him _ —waiting by the curb by the time he’d gotten down to the first floor.

 

And it had been. 

 

Somehow, the vehicle had made its way from that sequestered parking garage all the way to the First Order offices in just minutes, propped up along the curb, exactly according to his instructions… because he’s Ben  _ fucking _ Solo. 

 

And Ben Solo doesn’t ask; he doesn’t beg; he doesn’t settle, nor is he ever disappointed. He makes demands, and he gets what he fucking asked for.

 

It’s true that he had never begged once in his life, not for anything, not even when he’d been younger, his oversized ears poking out between his combed, gelled hair. Back then, he made a point of saying “please” and “thank you” only when it benefitted him, choking out the words when he believed such manners were needed. 

 

He wasn’t a man that  _ needed _ to say “please,” though. Not anymore. 

 

Yet, there he’d been, whimpering, pleading, and  _ begging _ with that grubby, little…  _ succubus  _ just to let him spill his cum down her shameful, little throat and have her swallow him up. It’s  _ unprecedented _ ; that the CEO of a  _ Fortune 500 _ company had been reduced to touching himself in his unlocked office, in front of a woman who enjoyed calling him a “filthy pervert.”

 

What a picture that must’ve been: a frantic Ben Solo, sat behind his desk, squeezing his cock in his tight fist, begging the merciless nymph on the other side of the desk to provide him release— _ What would Armitage think? _ Ben wondered, grimacing.  _ A better question would be: who would he be willing to kill to get such footage? _

 

He quashed the desire that began to bubble up inside of him after remembering the depraved scene, sitting up straight to knock back the last few drops of Scotch whiskey that pooled at the bottom of his glass. Leaning forward with a grunt, he allowed his elbows to dig into his knees, resting his face in his perspiring palms, pushing them up against his tired eyes. This wasn’t like him.

 

His other interactions with women had been less than memorable; so much so that he’d begun to treat them as if they were his yearly medical check-up. He’d drink down his fill of them ‘til he was satisfied - placated, and then he’d discard them like worn clothes, thanking them with solid wads of cash. It’d hold him over for a while, but after a month or so, he’d have to do it all again. 

 

But  _ her… _

 

Rey, and her freckle-spattered cheeks, and a hot, wet mouth that could bring God Himself to His knees; that delicate laugh, and that crude, overzealous anger… He had watched her lithe fingers slip into his billfold, and, the second she split, he realized she’d stolen away with not only his cash but his dignity as well. 

 

Ben grunted as he felt himself harden against his thigh.

 

_ This…  _ he thought, disgruntled.  _ This is what she does to me. This is what she’s reduced me to. _

 

He decidedly ignored the ache that made itself known under the fabric of his gaudy, cotton joggers - attempting to tent the front of his pants. The woman had already ruined his favorite slacks; he  _ was not  _ in a rush to sacrifice his Supreme Gucci track pants just yet. 

 

Abruptly, he stood, adjusting his trousers. Still, he walked with a waddling gait towards the rightmost wall, which was constructed entirely of windows, and observed the pleasing backdrop. He attempted to push Rey to the very back of his mind, momentarily forgetting how nicely her lips had wrapped around his cock, or how easily she had swallowed him down. Instead, he admired the darkened skyline, illuminated by the jarring glow of the glimmering marquees below.  

 

He hummed to himself, palm pressed against the glass, wondering just where his Rey was in the neon-lit labyrinth that filled his peripherals.

 

It was then, as he was experiencing New York’s nightlife from the shelter of his own high-rise apartment, that Ben Solo made a resolute, absolute decision. He resolved, this time, to go to  _ her,  _ to the audacious little thief that emptied his wallet and burgled his mind in one fell swoop, rather than have her come to him. 

 

He would fuck her sore in the very place she calls home. He’d promised to make her beg ‘til he saw tears in her eyes, to get her all worked up, to call her his “good girl” if she behaved well enough. He’d tire his kitten out, and then he’d up and leave her just as she left him— _ Only, I’ll outdo her this time, _ decided Ben, a self-satisfied grin stuck to his face.  _ I’ll leave without a kiss goodbye.  _

 

He removed his hand from where it was pressed to the glass, bringing it up towards his face so that his fingers might brush across his bottom lip as he reminisced. Her pretty, pink lips had melted so effortlessly against his, his stiff, tight mouth softening like butter on warm toast. He wanted to feel that same sensation again, and again… 

 

_ Tsk. _

 

He wouldn’t allow it, though.

 

The man had made up his mind. He’d show her—he’d  _ teach _ her—how to take control of another person, how to properly ruin them.

 

This time, Kylo Ren was calling the shots. 

 

***

 

_ Perhaps taking his money had been a step too far,  _ Rey figured. 

 

She sat oddly atop her kitchen counter—the leg of her only dining chair had promptly snapped in half just hours before.  _ Damned thing.  _ She fed herself from a bowl of steaming, watery ramen noodles, humming as she took each large bite and slurped the noodles like a heathen, trying in vain to stop the broth dripping down her chin. She peered down at her brand new phone periodically throughout her meal, waiting for that telltale  _ ping;  _ it didn’t come. 

 

It’d taken Rey all of two days to swallow her pride and heave the ravished packages from beneath her lumpy couch where she’d hidden them away. She supposed it’d be rather senseless to hoard an assortment of high-priced electronics underneath her furniture, and she couldn’t bear to sell them. Anyway, she had obviously  _ made her peace _ with Mr. Ben Solo, so why deny herself the pleasure? 

 

Rey had spent the entirety of that second day sitting cross-legged on her tarnished, carpeted floor, activating each gadget, releasing a slew of exclamations every so often, trying to push down the smiles that kept twisting into her lips. 

 

It had taken her three days, however, to rid herself of that sharp, perpetual lower-body ache. But—Rey being Rey—that painful throbbing had abruptly melted into an entirely different sort of  _ need _ .

 

And it had been four days—yes,  _ four days— _ since she’d left Ben a disheveled, trembling mess in his own office, the crisp hundred-dollar bills chafing her chest as she rushed down the lengthy halls.

 

_ Yup, _ thought Rey decidedly.  _ Definitely too far.  _

 

She fidgeted impatiently on the countertop, checking her phone once, twice, then three times. To make matters worse, she had hardly anything to do to keep herself occupied. Attending the necessary lectures and picking up two extra shifts at Plutt’s had slowly drip-fed her unstimulated mind. None of these activities, though, could rid her of the vivid memories of a debauched, all-important executive whimpering and falling apart for  _ her _ , of all people; however lewd - it made her ego swell.

 

When she had first stumbled out of the man’s office complex and into downtown New York’s sharp morning air, she’d felt empowered by the sizeable amount of cash in her bra and the taste of his spend lingering on her tongue. And,  _ sure, _ maybe her kitchen cupboards back home were stocked with value beans and Pop-Tarts… and,  _ yeah, _ her closet did happen to be chock-full of threadbare sweaters meant to fit the scrawny, fifteen-year-old version of Rey who’d originally purchased them… but Rey had never felt better.

 

She felt tremendously  _ powerful _ . Getting Ben Solo to beg her for release had done wonders for her own sense of self-importance. With the wad of hundred-dollar bills that she’d slipped from his wallet, she figured she deserved some sort of reward for earning the submission of a man so power-hungry and full of himself. She knew just where to spend all that  _ hard-earned _ cash. 

 

Waltzing into the nearest Best Buy, Rey had begun to lazily stroll through each aisle, her fingers dancing along the shelves like pocket-sized ballerinas,  _ pointe-ing _ and  _ plie-ing _ across each laminated price label adhered to the shelves. She was, of course, pretending she didn’t know what she was looking for, as if she hadn’t memorized the model’s measurements and specifications years ago.

 

Eventually, she came upon the right aisle; it was brimming with all sorts of catalog-worthy technology, and Rey had never been more adrenalized. She abandoned that nonchalant facade the second she laid eyes on her biggest wish, and she began bounding towards the boxed optic. There was an unpackaged one positioned exquisitely on the shelf, set out as a display piece. 

 

The tag read:  **Celestron - PowerSeeker 60AZ Refractor Telescope.**

 

An unsuppressable grin split her face apart the second she began to trace her fingertips over the eyepiece, tenderly stroking the cold, black plastic. 

 

There it was.  _ Everything _ she’d ever wanted when she was younger, and much scrappier than she was now—a young kid with scraped up knees and an empty, aching belly whose eyes had willed her to look up into the night sky rather than at the mess that oozed from the slums around her. 

 

Rey, the silly nine-year-old whose two front teeth had fallen out and given her an endearing lisp, refused to pay any sort of attention to her ever-changing condition in favor of mapping the constellations. Stars would take her mind off the foster homes, and the perpetual relocating, the grime, and the mold, and the  _ hunger, _ and—

 

_ Ping! _

 

Her phone vibrated from beneath her palm, distracting her from those unpleasant memories, returning her to that same yellowing kitchen with paint strips peeling from the dirtied walls. Rey came back to herself then, nearly letting the device slip from her hand and into the warm bowl of lukewarm ramen sat upon her lap. 

 

She knew it was him this time; she could sense it. It was no false alarm like the last few _pings_ had been—The first dud had been Rose asking if she and her boyfriend, Finn, could borrow Rey’s copy of _The Empire Strikes Back._ Rose had apparently never seen a Star Wars movie and Finn was rather outraged by this. The second occurrence had been an unpleasant notification from the Blackboard app. Rey is not proud to say she dove pathetically for her phone both times.

 

This time, though, she was sure. Glancing down at the screen, she crossed her fingers as she read the displayed notification. 

 

**Kylo Ren:** _ Your place. 10 minutes. Be ready. _

 

_ *** _

 

Rey was, at this point, an absolute mess. 

 

Balming her lips for the occasion, she thought to herself, _ Of all places…  _

Of all the places he could have her running off too, all the overpriced bars and leading light, rooftop lounges New York has to offer, he felt the need to be  _ there,  _ filling up her tiny, dingy apartment with his oversized ego, his asshole hair, and his patent, heeled shoes.

She had shimmied into a tattered, flaxen dirndl skirt moments after receiving his message under the pretense of making herself presentable; truthfully, though, she was concerned with convenience— _ why bother with buttons and zippers, _ Rey wondered,  _ if I’m going to end up undoing them all in only a few minutes? _

There was a split second where Rey thought to herself,  _ Maybe I should tidy up a bit.  _ She’d glanced around, assessing her living quarters as though she were doing so through the eyes of Ben Solo himself, and took in the unbecoming sight; an accumulation of food-crusted plates lie in the sink, bathing in dirty dishwater, and pairs of unwashed, polka-dotted underwear were strewn haphazardly across the floor.

She figured she should leave everything as is, just to spite him, and that’s exactly what she did.

 

_ Ping! _

 

Rey’s heart lurched as she glanced down at her device, registering the notification. A moment later, she scoffed, a sour look staining her features.

 

**Kylo Ren:** _ I expect you to be standing by your door. I’m outside, and I don’t intend to wait in some mold-infested hallway. _

 

She momentarily considered suggesting that he  _ fuck himself  _ for that comment, but the prospect of him turning ‘round in that gleaming, asshole car and leaving her aching as a sort of cruel punishment prevented her from doing so. Besides, she supposed she could always  _ correct his behavior _ after she got what she wanted from him.

 

Rey pried her apartment door open, wrenching it ‘til the metal hinges cried out in inanimate pain— _ I’ve got to fix those damn hinges, _ she thought to herself, the wood nearly buckling under all the force—and she instantly checked to see if any of her shifty, down-and-out neighbors were around to catch her shamelessly waiting for her dick appointment. They weren’t. 

 

She hadn’t truly considered the third floor before, and she took a moment to analyze it.

 

The lichen green carpeting was marred with hideous, tan stains, and layers of  démodé  wallpaper curled like pincer nails, piling on the rug like little, paper anthills. The hallway itself smelled vaguely of vomit, and a fusty odor wafted from the ceiling—mold, Rey assumed. She found herself begrudgingly agreeing with Ben; it was disgusting. 

She rested her shoulder against the doorframe, fidgeting impatiently, glancing toward the stairwell in a restless manner.

 

Then, he emerged, and Rey listened to his leaden footfall as he briskly ascended the flight of steps. He was all-consuming, burning his way up the hallway like a devastating conflagration. She had forgotten just how big he was; his groomed hair very nearly grazed the begrimed ceiling, and he seemed to grow one foot taller with every step he took in her direction.

 

And,  _ oh, _ did he look the part this time…

 

The man sported a fitted Brioni suit like it was leisurewear—not that Rey had the slightest idea who he was wearing—and his tie hung stiff and starch against his ivory, chiffon shirt. His buttons looked as if they were under immense pressure, and the shirt clung to his broad chest, straining to properly conceal his frame. Large hands rested lazily in the pockets of his slacks, only halfway-sheathed, and Rey’s knees just about buckled at the sight. Those distinguishable, earthy eyes were veiled by rounded, gold-fringed Ray-Bans, though she could still  _ feel _ his penetrative gaze appraising her from behind the lenses. One single strand of black, gelled hair hung limp over the golden frame of his aviators.

 

Upon approaching, he made no move to acknowledge her presence; there was no subdued smile, no half-hearted wave, and definitely no “Hello, Miss Rey.” He, instead, strode past her, carrying himself across the threshold into her apartment without so much as a plain greeting.

 

“ _ Ah…  _ you’re all quiet this time,  _ Ben, _ ” Rey spoke, toying with the man, reaching out to skim her fingertips along his fine-tailored suit jacket as he ambled into her living space. “Is it still  _ my turn? _ ”

It was as if she wasn’t even there, however.

Ben disregarded her entirely, not bothering to remove his shades as he evaluated her abysmal apartment, scrutinizing every minute detail from ceiling to floor. 

“You spoke so nicely for me last time,” she tried once more, goading him on. “Remember?”

He remained entirely silent, as if she hadn’t spoken at all, and continued to evaluate the compact living room, which abruptly melded into a cramped kitchen space. Affixed to the wall with multi-colored pushpins, there was a selection of personal photographs, and he eyed them with a frustrating level of detachment. 

Eventually, one criminally large hand emerged from the pocket in which it had been resting, and he reached up to handle the gleaming, gilded frames of his aviators, dragging them down and off his long, prominent nose. He turned to consider her, those rich, soil-like eyes boring into every inch of her figure, taking in her appearance as if for the first time since arriving. 

 

Moving clinically, he bore the glasses in one hand as he reached into his right pocket with the other, procuring a suede leather case in which he deposited the sunglasses in one fluid motion. Rey noticed his buttons toiling to cover his chest still, and each methodical movement overworked them that much more. Bulky muscle peaked out from the gaps between each button that bound the chiffon shirt together, and the openings grew even wider as he moved to brush his blazer aside. 

Rey was fucking  _ salivating. _

“Wait here,” he demanded effortlessly, slipping the case back into his pocket. 

Rey faltered at this. It was not the broken whimpers and the strangled pleas that he emitted four days ago; it was an imperative, and a firm one at that. There was no promise that he’d be inclined to bend to her will today.

 

With lumbering steps, he entered her kitchenette, crossing the flat strip of metal adhered to the floor, which divided tawny, front room carpeting from cheap, linoleum kitchen tiles.

It looked utterly  _ ridiculous; _ a six-foot-something man stood in her congested kitchen, regarding the mountainous stack of dishes, infiltrating  _ her _ home— _ her _ refuge—and laying her bare. 

 

He was too big. It was too much. It looked  _ wrong.  _

 

He emerged from the kitchen, then, with furrowed brows and a grimace staining his visage. 

 

_ It’s not  _ that _ bad, asshole, _ Rey thought bitterly, though she could admit only to herself that it really, really was. 

 

The butterflies flitting about in her stomach suddenly metamorphosed into monstrous birds the second she realized he was advancing towards her “bedroom,” if one could even call it that; it was, to all intents and purposes, an oversized storage closet that she’d managed to stuff a twin mattress into. She could only imagine what Mr. California King Bed was thinking as he twisted the knob to peer inside. 

 

She held her breath ‘til he materialized once more, looking rather unsatisfied.

 

As he continued sifting through her apartment, slinking between rooms, it dawned on her: 

 

_ He’s looking for something,  _ thought Rey.

 

He had already disappeared into her substandard bathroom before Rey could open her mouth to speak, and he emitted a gruff tone which jounced off the discolored tiles.

 

“It’ll do,” she heard him announce to himself. 

 

He appeared once again, nodding resolutely. 

 

“Wh—” 

 

“In here,” he urged, holding out his hand for her to take, his eyes wide and searching hers. 

 

Rey could do nothing but oblige, cautiously reaching forward ‘til her own hand, which was rather diminutive in comparison, slipped into his. His palm felt a little too nice beneath her own, soft and pliant under her skin, and she was forced to choke down a complaint when she stepped into her bathroom and he let her hand drop, hanging cold and limp at her side. 

 

Once they reached a standstill, he stood immediately behind her and placed his sizeable hands on either side of her neck, rooting her down into the tiled floor. The solid weight of his hands kept her steady and grounded while her heart was otherwise concerned with doing  _ fucking acrobatics _ in her chest. She could feel the pads of his thumbs, warm and featherlight, stopping short of each other at the sharp juncture separating nape and shoulder. 

 

She had to remind herself to breathe. The pleasant pressure of his hands thawed her skin, loosening the muscle there. Puzzled, she glanced around the bathroom, the firm placement of his thumbs limiting her neck mobility.

 

She couldn’t figure out what he was playing at; it was, after all, just a bathroom. Home to all  _ three _ of her hair products and her ratty loofah, the room was a sickly, off-white color, and blackened grout patterned the inexpensive tiles. She was certain that his washroom put hers to shame. 

 

“Ben…” 

 

“Stand,” he commanded softly, pressing his front to her back, bathing her in an all-encompassing torrent of body heat.

 

He used his grip to turn her so that she faced the marginally-fractured, streaked, full-body mirror affixed to the wall.

 

Dipping his head, he nosed along her nape, plush lips skimming her earlobe. She felt his hot breath slinking its way across her jawbone, and, as a result, her body underwent a powerful bout of involuntary shudders. Those phantom lips tickled the shell of her ear, and Rey didn’t need to check his expression in the mirror’s reflection to know that he was simpering; she could  _ feel _ it. His mouth twitched against her skin, and she knew he was thoroughly enjoying this. 

 

It was already too much.

“What do you see, Miss Rey?” he inquired in a whisper, tracing her jutting collarbones with his index finger, moulding her like clay.

“My, uh… my mirror?” Rey questioned at an odd, shrill pitch, furrowing her brows and shaking her head a bit at his inquiry. 

Rey quickly decided that Ben would have to stop looking at her like  _ that _ in the mirror, peering at her as though he were starved and she were some tasty, little morsel for him to swallow down whole. She squeezed her thighs together, gulping down breaths as she did so, searching for warmth, friction -  _ anything _ that would help her mind produce coherent thoughts. 

 

Nuzzling that same junction twixt her nape and shoulder, Ben groaned throatily as he watched her writhe in the reflection, gathering the worn fabric of her skirt into his fist before jerking one sturdy knee in between her legs in order to force them open from behind. He yanked the fabric upward just enough so that he might be entertained with the sight of her squirming against his upper thigh— _ See? _ Rey thought to herself proudly.  _ Convenience.  _

 

“No, no… what do you  _ see? _ ” he strains, the warmth of his knee, entirely solid beneath her, deliciously close to pressing up against where she needs it most.

 

Rey was all-too-tempted to grind down on his thigh and get herself off using only the course material of his fitted slacks; that would do.

Not that he would  _ let _ her, of course.

 

She ventured, “I see me… and you… and, uh, my bathroom,” not entirely certain as to what sort of answer he wanted from her. 

 

“Not quite,” he purred lazily, resting his chin atop her shoulder. 

Ben jarred ever-so-slightly, bringing his knee up so that it might bump against her, and she jolted as a result of the pleasurable sensation. He feigned ignorance, appearing stoic as ever in the mirror image - though Rey could feel his chest rising and falling rapidly from behind, and she discerned that the short, quick puffs of breath washing over her neck were, in fact, poorly-suppressed proofs of his arousal.

 

“Do you want to know what  _ I _ see, Miss Rey?” he posed rhetorically, nosing along the expanse of her neck even still. “ _ I _ see the CEO of First Order Enterprises, a man capable of successfully maintaining one of the most profitable American companies to date.”

 

His fingertips flirted with the frayed neckline of her blouse then, and Rey was consequently wracked with another violent fit of shudders. 

 

He sustained: “You know what else I see?”

 

She, at that point, was incapable of forming an intelligible sentence; she struggled just to stay upright.

 

“I see a bratty, audacious girl  _ way _ out of her depth,” he murmured, his substantial hands releasing their hold on her neck in order to creep ‘round her figure, appreciating the modest swell of Rey’s small breasts which were concealed in that frilly blouse of hers.

 

He seemed to be appraising them, with the way he cupped and squeezed.

 

“A girl who need to see things how they  _ really _ are… to learn who’s  _ really _ in charge here.” 

 

Obstructed by the shirt’s textile, Ben used the pads of his fingers to rub faint, circular patterns across her covered chest, regarding the mirror image  _ intently _ as her nipples hardened beneath his seemingly-weightless touch.

 

Rey couldn't stop the pathetic whine that crept its way out of her throat, not even if she tried; she hardly sounded like herself at all anymore.

 

“So, Miss Rey…”

 

He shifted, withdrawing his knee from the area between her restless thighs. Her eyes flickered downward to contemplate his slacks for a moment, and then nearly popped from their sockets. When he pressed his knee up against her, she must have soaked through the fabric, because the material that enveloped his upper thigh was absurdly saturated. She could hardly bear to look at him.

 

Ben adjusted his position so that his front was pressed to her right side instead, never once taking his eyes off the mirror’s reflection as his hand dextrally skimmed its way down her clothed, muscular abdomen.

 

“… we’re going to stay here…” he spoke, the pads of his limber, unhardened fingers slinking over the fabric of her skirt in order to tease the hem.

 

“… here in this room… ” he clarified, forming each word purposefully as his fingers reached  _ just _ under the trim.

 

She felt so weightless under his touch, she was concerned that the draft roaming about her apartment might pick her up and carry her away like the feathery head of a dandelion. 

 

“… until I am absolutely  _ certain… _ ” 

 

His voice deepened, and,  _ fuck, _ had he gotten close to her. Once again, his fist enveloped the material of her skirt, gathering the fabric into a ball and bearing it mere centimeters from her aching cunt.

 

“… that I won’t get the scent of your cunt off these slacks no matter how many times I wash them.”

 

Ben dared to press down then, the fabric rasping against her slit as he repeatedly dragged the material back and forth, his knuckles skimming her inner thighs. Still, he eyed her trembling reflection intently.

 

To Rey’s dismay, it was over as soon as it began. He relinquished his hold on the flimsy skirt, letting it flutter miserably down near Rey’s wobbling knees, crimped and disarranged. 

 

“See, Miss Rey…” he commented cooly as he began to circle her, fingers lifting to graze her collarbones as he moved in front of her, obstructing the mirror.

 

Again, her knees wobbled under the weight of the endearment. She fixed her eyes forward, unable to look at him.

 

“We have an agreement,  _ you and I, _ ” he reminded her as he prowled about.

 

Once again, he positioned himself behind her. He felt like a warm, solid wall against her back, and Rey was entirely sure, then, that his presence was the only thing anchoring her to the floor.

 

“We have rules.”

 

His polished, tapered, black brogues squeaked against the tiles, and Rey was simply grateful to hear the sound of something other than his lecherous voice and her own heaving lungs.

 

He continued to consider her in the mirror, eyes trailing keenly over her soft, freckled face. The way he looked at her, like she was precious, fragile and yet completely consumable… it made her breathless. She watched as he bent a little, moving his head to sit just in the crux of her shoulder, hovering so that their eyes were level in the mirror. 

 

In her peripheral vision, she could make out the jut of his prominent nose as he physically aligned himself with her, small, black tendrils of hair kissing her cheek as he did so. 

 

Using his forefinger and his thumb, he reached around to unfasten the top button of her blouse. He fixed his molten eyes on her, managing to maneuver the snap fasteners without even sparing them a glance. If Rey hadn’t been so preoccupied with her own need, she might have been impressed with his coordination. 

 

“Now,”—the first button popped open—“if my valued business associates violated a contract, we’d have a problem, wouldn’t we, Miss Rey?” he prompted in a gentle tone of voice.

 

Those same sizeable fingers trailed down the linked middle of her blouse, slinking towards the second button. Rey wavered, feeling the textile brush pleasantly against her chest. 

 

Not soon enough, she realized she had neglected to answer his question. 

 

“ _ Wouldn’t. We? _ ” he reiterated in her ear, watching her, still, as he sternly enunciated the words. 

  
Rey nodded, managing to part her lips and choke out a feeble “Yes.” 

 

“But they…  _ don’t” _ —another button snaps—“And do you know why they don’t, Miss Rey?”

 

His fingers began plucking at the button situated between her heaving breasts, and he seemed to be making a point of not allowing himself to touch her skin. 

 

She shook her head, barely remembering that he had even spoken. She was antsy, feeling too  _ warm _ , too  _ full _ , too  _ much _ of everything.

 

“Because,” he breathed, his lips dragging against her ear this time, leaving a sinful trail of heat in its wake, his liquid irises searing into her own through the slightly grubby glass, “there would be  _ consequences. _ ”

 

He emphasized his speech with a tug on her shirt, the remaining few buttons pinging off and rolling onto the floor, scattering into corners of the room. Rey couldn’t help but jump a little, startled at being exposed to the cool air so quickly. 

 

Upset that her blouse had been shredded, she opened her mouth to ask him exactly what the  _ fuck _ he thought he was doing, but words failed the second he reached ‘round to cup her cheeks, his thumb reaching to graze her bottom lip just once. Looking smug as ever in the mirror, he squeezed her cheeks together, pressuring her lips into the shape of an oval. 

 

Rey shook her head free, narrowed her eyes, and, in a moment of clarity, she managed to bite back with, “It’s a good thing I didn’t violate our contract then, isn’t it, Ben?” 

 

Granted it would have sounded a lot better if her lips hadn’t been forcefully pursed by his obscenely warm fingers. Rey internally kicked herself. 

 

He growled, his hand dropping from her cheek to rip her blouse from her very shoulders, leaving her standing before him in just an old, bobbled bralet.

  
“You’re awfully forgetful,  _ kitten _ . Can’t you think of anything you’ve done that might warrant consequences?”

 

Rey readied herself to scathe him with her words, but, sensing this, Ben held up a single finger to silence her, a gentle “ _ Shh _ ” crawling its way out of his mouth. 

 

“ _ Oh, _ look at you,” he breathed, his finger hovering above her clavicle bone, looking as though he were trying to outline it, trace it while refusing to touch her. 

 

Rey nearly sobbed from that alone, and she prayed to feel his skin against hers, even if only for a split second. That’s all she needed.

  
“So ready for the  _ fight _ … so accustomed to anger and petulance,” he drawled, his nimble fingers unclasping her bra and pinching the straps, dragging them down her shoulders in order to expose her to him.

 

He eyed her reflection, swallowing harshly as he regarded her bare chest in the mirror. Proud, pebbled, pink nipples jutted out, and Ben had to stop himself from reaching ‘round to skim his knuckles over them. The thought of his considerable hands outstretching, wrapping around her form, and dwarfing those little tits made his cock throb, straining painfully against his slacks.

 

“The thing is,  _ Rey… _ ” he began, his voice nearly breaking as he said her name, overcome with his own desperate need.

  
From behind her, the man unexpectedly began to lower himself. He genuflected, bending at the knee before leisurely falling to the floor; still, he refused to touch her, not even for the sake of his own balance. 

 

“You don’t  _ need _ to be the one in control,” he informed her, having composed himself.

 

_ How very Ben-Solo-esque, _ thought Rey,  _ to claim control immediately after falling to his knees.  _

 

Reaching for the sealed zipper which split the top half of her dirndl skirt down the middle, he lazily tugged it downward, and Rey felt the pressure of the garment’s tight waistband dissipating. 

 

“I’m in control here, aren’t I? I’m here to ruin you, to reduce you to a needy mess,” he continued in that same soft voice. “Look at yourself,  _ Miss Rey _ ”—his clipped, buffed fingernails dug into her jaw as he extended his hand to grip her chin, forcing her to look straight ahead at the mirror image she’d been avoiding

 

—“and tell me: have I done a good job?”

 

He had barely touched her, and yet… 

 

There she stood, her own likeness panting before her, exposed entirely from the waist up, looking very much ruined. The wrinkled hem of her skirt lay limp and dejected against her lower thighs, and after being unzipped, the garment looked shapeless. Faint, pink splotches decorated her cheeks and breasts right where he had meticulously squeezed, and pinched, and groped. She was a blushing, shuddering, disheveled mess. 

 

_ Yes,  _ thought Rey, nodding to herself.  _ You’ve done a  _ very _ good job. _

  
He appraised her appearance and hummed approvingly. Then, his hands hooked on either side of her skirt and shimmied it over her pronounced hip bones.

 

The skirt dropped to the floor, pooling at her feet. Her naked, attenuated figure stood in the mirror, wringing her hands nervously, waiting.

 

Rey was by no means shy, and it wasn’t as if the man hadn’t undressed her in his master bedroom days before… but ramen and value beans don’t quite fill a body out right, and, looking at herself then, she knew this. She was muscular but malnourished; she only hoped Ben wouldn’t notice. 

 

Ben, oblivious to her internal conflict, did  _ not, _ in fact, notice that she was too skinny, or too broad-shouldered, or too curveless. From behind, he rested his cheek against the side of her hip and goggled at all five feet and seven inches of her, the hardness in those stony eyes melting into adoration the longer they peered. 

 

“ _ Beautiful, _ ” he murmured, speaking to himself rather than to her.

 

Rey turned her head then, fearing that she might crumble under the intensity of his gaze and the low voice that accompanied it— _ Beautiful, _ her mind repeated his tone. 

 

He rose steadily from the floor, brushed off his knees, and moved to stand in front of her. 

 

“Stay,” Ben commanded, lifting one long finger to point peremptorily at her.

 

She scowled.

 

_ Stay? Like I’m a fucking dog? _ Rey thought sourly. The “ _ Beautiful _ ” comment ringing throughout her mind was instantly replaced with her own, directed at him:  _ Asshole. _

 

That scowl dwindled, however, the second she realized that he was preparing to undress himself.

 

He began removing his blazer then, peeling off the lavish fabric which clung to his sturdy arms. Once he’d fully shrugged it off, he shook it out and spread it on the floor tiles like a picnic blanket. Rey nearly winced at the sight of his bajillion-dollar suit outspread on her filthy vinyl flooring.

 

“What—” Rey started, but her mouth ran dry; Ben stole the words right from her very throat as he lifted his obsidian slacks at the knees, lowering himself down onto his wrinkled blazer, supplicating himself before her once again.

 

_ When the fuck did I last clean this floor?  _ Rey briefly panicked.

 

He positioned himself so that his chin tilted upward, raising his eyes so that he could ogle her some more. Those large hands rose to flatten the chiffon shirt down against his  _ brick-shithouse _ of a chest, pressing away the crinkles. Then, he smoothed down the unruly strands of hair framing his face. 

 

“I need you warmed up,” he explained matter-of-factly, and Rey’s legs wobbled at the implication. 

 

He took her leg then, wetting his plush lips before brushing them up the expanse of her shin, his tongue peeking out to taste her skin as he kissed his way up from her ankle to her kneecap. Once he’d had his fill, the licking and nipping subsided, and he lifted her leg in order to rest it atop his shoulder. 

 

Rey’s head lolled uselessly on her shoulders, and she permitted a slew of little noises to escape through her slack lips as he began nosing at her inner thigh. Her heart was in her fucking throat; the promise that she’d get to feel his blessed tongue between her legs again was enough to make her moan, a throaty, emphatic noise splitting the air, and—

 

**_Slap!_ ** —Rey yelped.

 

She jolted, pawing aimlessly for the prickling patch of skin that had been struck. Her fingers brushed circles against her inner thigh, cooling the reddened area. 

 

Ben peered up at her with wide, unrevealing eyes, looking as though he were entirely innocent; his pronated hand which was raised just inches above the red patch of skin, however, proved his guilt.

 

He’d just slapped her— and  _ hard, too, _ Rey thought incredulously, stroking the sore skin.

 

“ _ Asshole, _ ” she spoke aloud this time, baring her teeth at the man.

 

He paid the insult no mind. 

 

“Here are the rules, Miss Rey,” he began, his voice formal and harsh. “You are going to stand up straight”—his iron-wrought fingers dug into her hips, mooring her to the floor— “and you’re going to get off on my tongue.” Another pause. 

 

“Use my mouth however you want. Can you do that for me?”

 

He’d spent the better part of the night before envisioning Rey falling to pieces for him, flaking like French pastries in his very arms;  _ that _ was his initial approach. Then, he saw her squirming against him in the reflection, wriggling as he hitched up her rumpled skirt, those pretty, little tits on display in the mirror’s image, all for him… He couldn’t help but drop to his knees, demanding that she and her sugared cunt make a filthy fucking mess of his face.

 

He was winging it, at this point; he only hoped Rey wouldn’t notice. 

“But, you have to be silent, okay?” he warned, his voice softening as if he were pleading with her. “Otherwise, this stops. Do you understand?”

He was looking at her like she’d hung stars in the night sky just for him. All wide-eyed and flushed pink skin.

Rey nodded obediently despite the overwhelming desire to spit in his face that rose up within her—retribution for the red-hot patch of skin lighting up her thigh, of course. 

 

He groaned in response, tilting his head even further back, nosing at the soft cotton of her underwear.

 

“ _ Good girl, _ ” he murmured almost intelligibly, nuzzling the fabric. “Gonna be so quiet for me, hm? Such a good girl.”

 

_ Jesus fucking Christ, _ thought Rey, shuddering as he buried his face between her legs. 

 

Ben lifted one hand in order to graze his knuckles over the stinging streak of red skin gracing her inner thigh, and Rey involuntarily jerked, bucking against his face. He encouraged her to do it again, both hands sliding ‘round to squeeze her ass, urging her hips to rock back and forth with his newfound grip. 

 

He mouthed over the cotton once again, and Rey was forced to bite her bottom lip, hindering the pathetic mewls and whimpers that dared to bubble up in her throat. He continued to peer up at her, the corners of his lips twitching, a mischievous glint vivifying his wide, honeyed eyes as his tongue outlined her slit through the fabric— _ Bastard, _ thought Rey, diverting her eyes. 

 

Ben let her leg fall from his shoulder and turned his head ever-so-slightly in order to nip at the skin of her untouched thigh. Rey jarred in response, grinding more forcefully against his face. Then, he turned back and caught a minuscule strip of cotton fabric between his teeth, attentively dragging it down her quivering legs. 

And,  _ oh, _ what a sight they made; the mirror image showed a mammoth of a man, packed tight in an outrageously-expensive Brioni, undressing a shuddering, scrappy woman in hand-me-downs with his fucking _ teeth _ . She stepped out of the limp, sodden garment once he tugged them down near her ankles, evoking a hum of approval from Ben.

“See?” he spoke, sounding rather pleased. “I  _ knew _ you could be good for me.”

He discarded her panties, tossing them to the side as he took her ankle into his obscenely large hand and rested it back atop his shoulder. She was utterly exposed, then, without the meager protection of her underwear, entirely vulnerable before him. 

Leisurely, Ben sloped forward ‘til his twitching lips hovered just above her aching cunt, tickling the skin. Rey, noiseless still, brought her fist to her mouth and bit down hard on her knuckle, nearly splitting the skin. He blew on her, the cold stream of air reducing Rey to a shuddering mess, and she dared to grab hold of his shoulders in order to steady herself, her knees buckling. 

“ _ Smell so good, _ ” Ben moaned, desperation plain in the cracking of his voice, still poised just above where she needed him to be. “Bet you taste even better…” 

 

Rey could no longer help herself; she opened her thighs a little wider, sliding her leg along his shoulder—a soundless plea to just fucking get on with it already.

 

That was all the encouragement he needed, it seemed; Ben delved between her thighs then, and she watched as he began to drink her down, ravenously supping from her cunt like a man starved. There were no kitten licks, no faint, circular, teasing strokes meant to drive her mad—not like last time. Last time, he’d managed to taste her properly, compelling her to beg for it all the while. This time, however… This time, he devoured her, the flat, wet surface of his tongue reaching everywhere all at once. Relentlessly. 

 

Rey peered down at him, agonizingly and obediently silent as her legs wobbled beneath her. She made a mental note to remember the sheer size of his tongue, how it pushed against her entrance and grazed her clit at the same time. 

 

It was the angle—it gave him everything. 

 

“You taste… just as sweet… as I remember” Ben groaned against her, his words muffled by her cunt and the obscene slurps of his own tongue. 

 

Rey could hardly stand it. Her body shook violently like a skinny, little tree in the midst of a hurricane, and, under her breath, she swore. It was muted—it was a whispered “ _ Fuck _ ” that could hardly be heard above the lewd, emphatic noises slipping from Ben’s mouth—and yet,  _ he’d heard her. _

 

The  _ crack _ of his open palm against her already-tender inner thigh was harsh enough to bring tears to Rey’s eyes. She shrieked and started, her fingers jerking to cool that same damned tract of skin, but Ben impeded her, fettering her wrists with his thick fingers. 

 

“Don’t you  _ dare _ make me stop, kitten… I swear to God,” he warned, but it sounded, for a moment, as though he were pleading with her. “Be good for me, Rey…  _ please. _ Bite your fist again if you have to.” 

 

She did as he said, shredding her knuckle with her incisors as he delved twixt her legs to lap at her once again. 

 

“This is all I’ve thought about,” he confessed then, his admission smothered between her thighs, his lips swollen, and sticky, and pink. “No… this is all I’ve been  _ able to  _ think about”—he reasoned with himself, editing his previous statement for his own clarification rather than hers—“since you…” 

 

_ Since you showed up at my office, called me a “pervert,” and emptied my wallet,  _ he finished, not quite having the courage to say it aloud.

Ben’s jaw slackened and he held his tongue out, flat and broad, so that it was flush with his chin as he tipped his head back… urging her to… just—

 

He moaned gutturally, the sound bypassing his mouth completely, choosing, instead, to bark its way out of his chest as she hesitantly ground her hips forward, fucking herself on his tongue. 

 

She understood, then, what he wanted from her, what he  _ needed _ just as much as she did— _ Yes, yes,  _ Ben mentally urged as she began to have her way with him.  _ My good girl. My Rey.  _

 

She seated her shaky fingers in his moussed hair, making sure to thoroughly dishevel it as she did so, yanking his head back, exposing his tongue to her once more. Her eyes flicked back to the mirror’s reflection for the sole purpose of seeing him offer his face up like a votive gift, the all too ancient, archaic image of a man supplicating to a goddess. She undulated her hips, grinding down onto his blissfully wet tongue. 

“ _ Fuck…  _ now you’ve got the idea, angel,” he managed to choke out between each roll of her hips, peering up at her as though she were some big god and he, an apostle devoting his entire self to her. “ _ Work for it. _ ”

 

Spurred on by his lewd encouragement, she wrenched his head back for better use, spreading her legs even further. She was, at that point, fully intent on fucking Ben’s face ‘til she’d strung her own orgasm out of her, rocking against that prominent nose and that open, pliant mouth like they were hers to use. 

Rey had built up a steady rhythm, and he was graciously swirling his tongue, unthreading her  _ that _ much more. If she thought he had been ruined in his office, then this was something else entirely; with his head tilted far back, cheeks flushed and hair mussed, he looked utterly debauched. She embellished his chin, lips, and cheeks with sticky trails of come, and, though he did, in fact, look as if he’d been thoroughly fucked, it just wasn’t _ enough.  _

 

Before she could speak a word of it, Ben was undoing his Aspinal cufflink, throwing it to the ground in order to prize up his shirt sleeve, slowly rolling the cuff ‘til it sat at his elbow, revealing the soft skin of his sinewy arms. 

 

Rey blinked. For one lengthy, odd moment, she realized she’d never seen the bare skin of his forearms before, and she ogled them as she continued grinding down onto his accommodating tongue. His skin was blanketed by a fine, wispy dusting of hair, and throbbing veins weaved through the constellation of dark moles that spotted his skin.   

 

Not that she could concentrate on them for too long.

 

Rey abruptly remembered why he’d winded his sleeves up in the first place when she felt him slide his fingers just past where his tongue was still working, one impishly grazing her clit before moving on. He slowly slipped one finger inside of Rey, then two, and waited. 

 

Rey was rocking back and forth far more aggressively then, willing his fingers to move; she had an urge to yank his hair and verbally demand that he fuck her with his fingers, but she was positive that’d earn her another sharp smack to the thigh. 

 

Then, when he felt she was desperate enough, he crooked them inside of her, his fingers forming a hook as they curled and twisted up against her clenched walls. Rey keened noiselessly, arching her back as she fucked herself against his fingers and tongue.  

 

“Ben,” she choked out— _ to Hell with his rules _ —as his fingers worked her open, so close. “P-Please…”

 

He  _ tsked _ , swatting her twinging thigh halfheartedly as his head continued to bob between her legs. 

 

“ _ Ben, _ ” she sobbed once more.

 

“Nuh-uh,” he groaned, appearing wild with want. “What’s my  _ name,  _ Rey?” 

 

Rey knew what he wanted; for that, she considered ridiculing him, mocking that ridiculous pseudonym and wrenching his head back in order to undo herself, in order to take what’s hers. She couldn’t, though. Her entire figure was shaking under his ministrations, and she was certain her teetering legs would give out at any moment. More than anything, she  _ needed _ it. 

 

It was her silence this time that displeased him, and he began to retract his fingers as punishment for the lengthy pause, tilting his face away so that she could not reach him. 

 

“No, no!” she pleaded frantically, reaching to find purchase in that knotted mop of hair once again, attempting to jerk his head back into place. “Kylo, Kylo, Kylo”—she sounded pathetic, and she repeated the sobriquet over and over as if it were some sort of mantra—“ _ please. _ ”

 

He hummed, seemingly satisfied, before sinking somehow lower onto his knees in order to drink her down to completion, adding a third finger as she huffed, and whimpered, and begged. It wasn’t long before his free hand reached up to paw at those perky, little tits, and it was suddenly too much. 

 

Rey crumbled underneath all these licks, strokes, and squeezes. She released a drawn-out, throaty moan, jerkily thrusting against his plush, sheened lips as she continued fucking herself on his fingers, her come dripping down his bare forearm. Her entire body thrummed with hot, white pleasure that soaked through her limbs and roused every nerve ending.

 

Ben—Kylo, as he insisted—nuzzled himself further twixt her shuddering legs, peering up at her as though she were the stars, and the moon, and everything in between. She crooned sweetly for him, releasing quick, pitched gasps which were intermediated by a succession of low moans. He kept on, determined to pull every single saintly noise from her throat before he let off.

 

Once she finished convulsing, she tried drooping down onto the tiles, panting, sighing, and determined to rest for a moment. Kylo’s sturdy arms, however, encircled her abdomen, keeping her upright and anchoring to the floor. 

 

“I’m going to give you two options,” he explained to her, quite breathless himself, pressing quick kisses to her quaking thighs. “Either I keep going, and I make you come again and again with my tongue alone—which, believe me, Miss Rey, I would thoroughly enjoy doing— _ or…  _ I fuck you sore right in front of this mirror. It’s your decision.”

 

Rey hardly considered the choices at all. She was brimming with that post-orgasmic desire to be filled and fucked raw, and she knew what she wanted from this man kneeling before her. She tugged on that tousled mess of hair atop his head, urging him to stand.

 

“ _ Fuck me, _ ” she breathed, her words very nearly inaudible.

 

She regarded him as he rose to his feet clumsily, his movements lacking any semblance of grace, straightening up so abruptly that he staggered a bit.

 

It seemed that he was just as eager as she was. 

He shifted so that his large, upright figure no longer obstructed her view of the mirror. Positioning himself behind her, he rested his chin on her shoulder and shut his eyes for a moment, collecting himself. 

 

“I want you to watch as I fuck you,” Kylo whispered into her ear, then, his voice strained and faint. 

 

“Then, when you come, you’re going to watch  _ yourself. _ Don’t you even think about so much as blinking.”

 

Rey listened, dazed, as he unzipped his slacks, and she was lost to the thought of finally being filled. Instantly, he began to rub himself through her wetness, the head of his cock catching on her sensitive clit once, twice, and then again. Rey mewled, her gaze directed downward as she watched the tip poke out from in between her legs every time he rocked forward. 

 

She took note of the harsh exhale that shot from between his lips, heating the back of her neck and sending her insides churning. Rey was sure of it, then: he  _ was _ just as needy as she was.

 

Rey watched him position himself in the mirror image, delighting in running his length along her cunt, fascinated by the feel of her. She was nearly winded by the mere _ sight _ of it.

 

His cock jutted proudly from in between his legs. The veins running along its expanse were pulsing and plentiful, and Rey couldn’t help but think about how good they’d feel rutting against her walls. Red and leaking, his length skimmed her upper thighs as he leisurely rubbed himself against her, back and forth.

 

It wasn't until he ducked down a bit, resting his chin in the crook of her neck and quirking his lips as they pressed itty-bitty kisses to her earlobe, that Rey decided she  _ very much _ needed him inside of her  _ right _ there and then.

She couldn’t help but emit a pathetic whimper as she assessed him in the mirror, and she jerked back against his slacks in hopes that he’d take her already.

 

_ "Shhh _ …  I've got you," he murmured softly, pushing against her as he reached down to position himself once again.

 

The head of his dick bobbed near her entrance, and Rey panted as he gripped her hips in order to hold her still. Then, with a sharp breath, he thrust, sheathing himself inside her halfway. 

They groaned in unison, and Rey swore, for a moment, that the world had stopped rotating. She felt as though every clock had stopped ticking, as though every pendulum had ceased to oscillate, as though time itself had stopped solely for her to admire the substantial stretch of his cock inside of her.

 

He burned through her, filling her deliciously, and Rey became determined to feel him fully seated inside of her. Kylo, however, stilled behind her, his eyes momentarily squeezed shut, attempting to compose himself as he waited for her to accommodate him. 

 

He swayed forward a bit, steadily working himself inside of her as she relaxed around him, gradually adjusting to his size. Two sets of eyes goggled the mirror, directing their gazes downward as they witnessed his cock steadily sinking into her. Wordlessly, Kylo regarded her expression, expecting some sort of indication that she was prepared for the last of him, those few final inches.

 

“Mmhm,” Rey managed to hum, encouraging him.

 

He pitched forward, filling her, then, in every respect, and the pair simultaneously gasped. They stood that way for what felt like several minutes, his front melded to her back, their faces utterly florid. However long it was, It didn't last.

He shifted so that his hands, which had been resting on her hips, moved to push against her shoulder blades, bending her forward ‘til she had no choice but to reach out and press her palms flat against the mirror, smudging the glass as she steadied herself. His hands returned to her hips once he determined that she was bent to his liking, and he roughly tugged her upward, lifting her until she settled oddly on her tiptoes.

 

It was  _ too much.  _ The sensation of him filling her completely, seated heavily inside of her… it was  _ just _ verging on too much.

Then, he moved.

And,  _ oh, _ that was something else. The still warmth of his cock faded, replaced by an active, electric sort of warmth. He nudged her legs further apart with his knees, and she willingly spread them even more, each rough thrust sending her lurching toward the mirror, rising higher and higher on her the tips of her feet. 

 

Somehow, some way, he instantaneously found that spot within her that made her knees wobble, angling his hips as though he were already intimately familiar with her cunt. Her blunt fingernails scratched at the glass, and her body quaked in its bowed stance.

 

She then became acutely aware of all the little noises he was pulling from her throat with each methodical thrust. Unwittingly, an amalgamation of low moans, grunts, and whimpers slipped from in between her teeth; she was  _ mewling _ for him, and it was nothing short of pornographic.

 

She hardly sounded like herself at all. Desperate and low, her moans reverberated throughout the bathroom, bouncing off the grimy floor tiles. She pursed her lips as she saw his face in the mirror; his mouth was agape, and those honeyed eyes of his were blown wide. His cheeks flushed, too, as a reaction to the sound that had just crawled its way up her throat. 

 

_ He definitely didn't need that ego boost, _ she thought bitterly, resolving to keep her mouth shut.

Abruptly, he gave an unsparing thrust, and Rey’s feet began to ache, longing to press flat against the floor once more. It sent her reeling forward, and, had she not steadied herself before, she’d have splintered the damn mirror. Again, she failed to choke back the lewd, somewhat guttural noises that slipped off her tongue. 

He huffed out a laugh, listening to all the pretty noises she was making for him.

He rolled his hips again, gauging her reaction, but he refused, then, to give her the mercy of a small pause. He bucked his hips once, twice, then three times, each thrust immediately succeeded by another, his pace growing brutal. 

 

She tottered forward each time he snapped his hips up, unable to catch her breath, and she registered the fact that she was making an absolute fucking  _ mess _ of his slacks.

 

"You've never been fucked like this, have you?" He inquired breathlessly, splitting her open over and over again.

 

Rey could do nothing but whimper in response. 

“I can—oh, Rey… I can tell,” he groaned, barely able to get the words out as he panted, bowing her body ‘til it looked as though she were bent at a perfect ninety-degree angle before him. “Tell me, Miss Rey… tell me that you’ve never been fucked like this before.”

He was growing cocky, building his composure at the same time that Rey was losing hers. Pressing against her shoulder in order to keep her nice and contorted for him, he watched her precious, little tits bounce ever-so-slightly as he jostled her around. 

 

She  _ tried. _ She really tried to talk, to tell him how it felt and how she'd probably never be able to have sex with anyone else again. But all that she managed was a guttural moan, rasping against her throat as it rippled out. He chuckled.

 

 _"This"_ —he thrusted into her again, her feet lifted up off of the floor still—"is what it means to get fucked,” he hummed, his voice far too soft for his filthy words. 

 

He moved to stroke at her hair before twisting it into his fist, pulling at her scalp. In turn, Rey hissed, preparing to snarl at him for  _ daring _ to touch her like, but she was cut off by another violent thrust. He used his newfound grip to hold her still as he pounded her from behind, forcing her head upward, demanding that she watch herself get properly fucked. 

She was red in the face, hair partially veiling her eyes, hunched forward pathetically, appearing dazed as she examined herself in the semi-fractured mirror; she was a fucking wreck. 

 

"Is  _ this _ what you wanted?" Kylo bit out teasingly, wrenching her up by the hair in order to press her naked back tight against his sweat-soaked chiffon shirt, cradling her in his arms as he rocked up into her recklessly. “… what you  _ needed? _ ”

One single hand rose to toy with her cheeks again, squeezing roughly, morphing her lips into that same puckered, oval shape they’d been moulded into earlier. 

“ _ Watch yourself,  _ Miss Rey,” he demanded. 

His hand was solid as steel as he continued to fuck her, clutching her to his chest as he continued squeezing her cheeks, nipping at her earlobe all the while. 

“Watch what happens when you break my fucking rules,” he spoke, his hand raising to spank her tits, watching the skin turn a pretty pink in his palm’s wake. 

“You think you deserve to come anywhere _ near  _ my office?  _ Hm? _ ” he spat, frustration seeping into his voice as he groped at her chest, fighting the urge to bury his face in the crook of her neck. 

 

“You think this is a fucking game? You think you can possibly ruin me in the same way that I’ve ruined you?”  

Rey recalled the way he peered up at her from in between her legs, goggling her like she were some sort of godhead after she’d put those nice, plump lips to good use— _ yes, _ Rey thought to herself, not daring to say it aloud.  _ I could most definitely ruin you, Ben Solo.  _

 

_ If I haven’t already.  _

 

Kylo resisted the urge to bury his face in her neck, and he watched her legs wobble as he continued to tsk at her. 

 

“Look at yourself, Miss Rey… does it  _ look _ like you’re in control?” he posited, each thrust managing to punctuate his words. “Do you  _ feel _ in control?” 

Rey felt his thrusts growing sloppier by the second, and his legs nearly gave out before he made one decision: “ _ Down, _ ” he instructed, his voice strained. 

 

He lowered them both, then, so that they kneeled on the floor. She didn't fail to notice, however, that he situated her knees so that they rested on his strewn blazer, permitting his own knees to rest on the cold, tiled floor.

 

From this angle, it was too much, too  _ close, _ too  _ deep _ for her to prepare herself for the stretch of him. She watched in the mirror as he scraped the sweat-slicked hair out of his eyes, snarling at his own restrictive slacks. 

 

"Take— _ ah _ … take them off," Rey whined, and she refused to think about how pitiful she sounded. 

 

Kylo considered her for a moment, and she could practically see him weighing up his options. 

 

" _ P-Please, _ " she breathed, " _ … wanna feel you. _ "

 

That decidedly made up his mind. He opened his slacks from where they were buttoned above his cock, shifting them down with his free hand while the other kept hold of Rey's hip. 

 

Rey was entirely unprepared to feel his large, warm thighs pressed against the backs of hers, a light dusting of hair prickling her skin each and every time he thrust forward. The angle allowed him to hunch over her a bit, scaling up the back of her body as if she were a little hill and he was conquering her. His balls slapped against her and he grunted into her ear; it was primal.

 

She clenched around him.

 

“Ohhh,” he cooed, huffing out a little laugh as her body quaked beneath his, “you like that, Miss Rey…  _ don’t you? _ ”

 

His fingers tangled in her hair once more, and he jerked her head upward so that she might catch her reflection and witness what a filthy, shuddering mess he had made of her. 

“You like being fucked dirty?  _ Mmhm, _ ” he breathed, nosing along the expanse of her neck. “If you like being fucked dirty, then  _ watch yourself. _ I’m giving you exactly what you want.” 

 

Rey couldn't fathom which was more obscene: the way he looked pressed over her,  _ taking _ what he wanted, or the sound of his balls slapping against her, the din of skin meeting skin bouncing off the tiles. 

 

“ _ So fuckin tight, _ ” he choked out, his voice breaking as he gasped out an aside.

 

That was  _ it. _ The angle, his fucking  _ voice…  _ Rey had hardly realized how close she was, how much he affected her. Her orgasm had crept up on her, and it was about to hit her like a freight-train. She panicked, not knowing what she wanted, what she even  _ needed— _

 

"Don't worry, Rey," he soothed her, "I can _ feel  _ you."

 

His voice was softer than it had been, his hands smoothed over her back, tracing down to meet between her legs. Pressing his chest against her back, crowding her beneath his body.

 

"I'll help," he whispered as he slid his fingers over her aching clit.

 

The weight of  _ this man _ —a man ten years older than her. A business executive who could effortlessly purchase her soul and do with it whatever he pleased—was crushing, but  _ just right. _

 

" _ Rey, _ " he pleaded, long and drawn-out, as he rubbed the pads of his middle and ring finger over her sensitive clit, still thrusting into her as she relaxed further onto the tiled floor, eyes fixed on the gritty mirror. 

 

She was so unbelievably close as she listened to him murmur profanities and patheticisms into her ear, whimpering and nuzzling her neck, that oh-so-powerful disposition splintering before her very eyes. She was going to come undone watching him rock into her desperately, appearing just as wrecked as she was. 

 

She didn’t want to do it alone, though.

 

So, for some unfathomable reason, she pawed at his unreasonably oversized palm and let it rest over top of her own hand, his fingers skimming her knuckles. It pulled him over her so that he rested fully atop her then, his heated face pressed against her cheek as he fucked her, oddly intimate.

 

It was unfamiliar for the both of them. 

 

" _ W-with me," _ she choked out, barely able to make sense of what she herself was saying as she concentrated on the feeling of his sizeable body crowding over top of her. 

 

He didn't answer; she doubted he even could. He just hissed into her ear as he continued to thrust, his fingers still dancing over her clit as he held himself up with his other arm, bringing his lips to graze over her jaw, mouthing incoherent nothings against her skin as she felt his thrusts become sloppier.

 

Kylo began to groan then, grunting with each thrust as he pushed up into her, his cock throbbing as he took her. And,  _ God, _ this was everything she'd needed since she'd seen his face on that app. She just… she  _ needed— _

 

He emitted a noise that similar to a sob, his body spasming as he filled her up, warmth blooming within her as his hips stilled momentarily. His knees and feet scrambled for purchase on the tiles as he groaned, gripping at her sides, holding her close in order to keep himself fully seated within her. 

 

The feeling of him throbbing inside her and filling her to the brim was all Rey needed. She came undone, brimming with his cum and  _ pure fucking bliss.  _ Her nerve endings sang sweetly for him as she went limp in his arms, too exhausted to hold herself up any longer, and he rested her gently onto the floor. 

 

Ben sagged, breathing heavy, deep breaths ‘til, eventually, he crumpled down on top of her, pinning her to the floor with his bulky form. Her cheek was squashed against the black blazer which lay creased and soiled beneath her torso, stained with spend near the hem. 

 

Two chests heaved as they panted in sync with one another; it was as though they had become one single being, their bodies conjoined, an intricate tangle of sticky limbs attempting to catch its breath.

 

He hummed as his breath came back to him, nuzzling her jaw from behind, steadily rocking against her though he’d finished already. It seemed that he wasn’t ready to give the feeling up. Rey tried not to think how delicious and warm he still felt inside her, his still half-hard dick slowly dragging against her walls, the obscene feeling of him fucking her, lubricated with his own come. 

 

For several minutes, they lay lethargically, piled together like a stack of wet, limp newspapers, not daring to move for fear that they’d fall apart. 

After a bit, Rey’s head lifted wanly from the itchy blazer, and she glimpsed into the heavily-flecked mirror once more to find Ben perceiving her reflection with a peculiar, wide-eyed look. Strands of disarranged hair adhered themselves to his perspiring forehead, and he licked his swollen, glazed lips, regarding her still. 

 

She couldn’t quite interpret  _ that _ look; she’d never seen it before

 

“What?” she questioned him imprecisely.

 

He swallowed, unblinking, and shook his head a little. “I…”

 

He trailed off, and the pad of his thumb rose to knead featherlight circles into her jutting shoulder blades, as if attempting to convey his unfinished sentence with touch rather than his voice.

 

Floundering for words, Ben opened and closed his mouth several times before his eyes flickered to the floor, unable to meet her gaze in the mirror’s image. He pursed his lips, tense, and then decidedly opened his mouth to finish the thought.

 

His voice wavered as he spoke: “You’re so b—”

 

There was a sudden, unpleasant buzz that rang throughout the apartment, and Ben, irritated by the disruption, huffed and heaved himself cautiously off of Rey’s slack form so as not to crush her. They both groaned as he pulled himself out of her. 

 

Once he managed to stand upright, he tucked himself back into his boxers and dragged the zipper up lazily. He took time to sweep an odd spattering of dust off of the fabric that shrouded his kneecaps, peering into the mirror as he groomed his unkempt mop of black hair with shaky fingers, primping himself for company.

 

“That, I believe”—regaining composure, he tugged the sleeves of his unpigmented chiffon shirt down so that they obscured his forearms once again, his jerky movements gradually melding into poised, effortless acts—“is for me.”

 

Rey, staggered by his ability to dissimulate so fluidly, raised a single brow and considered him. Rather than gaze at his reflection, she craned her neck painfully in order to watch him tidy every corner of his broad and rumpled figure. He stood over top of her, his brogues firmly situated alongside her trembling legs, and she shuddered when the tip of one polished shoe grazed her naked thigh.

 

Ben scrutinized his slacks; they were smirched by Rey’s wet cunt, and cum stains smeared the fabric near his zipper. He feigned a grimace, pretending as though the blotches didn’t fill him with an overwhelming sense of satisfaction and a twitch in his sensitive cock. 

 

Then, after determining that he looked presentable enough, regardless of those filthy little stains, he stepped over Rey’s limp body and exited the bathroom.

 

He made his way leisurely toward the front door, the perfect picture of nonchalance. After unsuccessfully attempting to unbolt it once, twice, and then a third time, he ultimately wrenched the door open with a frustrated grunt, nearly busting the hinges in his efforts. 

 

An unfamiliar man bearing a carefully-packaged box of warm, iced Cinnabons stood before him, trembling— _ one of Hux’s flunkies, _ Ben assumed, appraising the overwrought man before him. Even someone as anal-retentive as Armitage could not complete Ben Solo’s to-do list alone; of course he’d have little footmen running about New York to do these menial tasks.

 

Ben purloined the box of goods from Hux’s flunky, managing to suppress the smug smile that threatened to split his face when the man apprehensively regarded the ruined state of his slacks and immediately averted his eyes.

 

“I assume this has been taken care of,” he supposed monotonously, lifting the lid to examine the pastries. “In terms of payment, that is.”

 

Warmth emanated from the base of the paperboard box, heating Ben’s hand as he snuck a peek. Inside, the cinnamon rolls were situated into rows of four, and the white icing that graced the top of each bun dribbled down the sides, puddling around the dough.

 

The man nodded vigorously, perspiration trickling down his forehead in heavy rivulets, before attaining a kerchief from his pocket and dabbing his face dry— _ Hux must tell his lackeys that I eat babies,  _ Ben thought, amused.

 

Refusing to spare the bumbling man another glance, he hefted the shoddy door shut, the box of Cinnabons perched on one flat palm. An unfamiliar sense of concern ballooned up inside of him the moment he registered that Rey’s front door was insufficiently secured by one single, flimsy bolt. 

 

This man who made it his business - his  _ prerogative  _ to make people’s lives a living hell, was suddenly struck by the fact that he was  _ more than _ prepared to shoulder the cost of a multi-lock system. Better yet, he’d finance the installation of a brand new door.

 

Gliding into the narrow kitchenette, Ben made for the third-rate refrigerator, his towering, muscle-bound figure looking comically large in the dingy compact space.

 

And that’s when something happened to Ben Solo. Something that was utterly, and devastatingly perplexing. As he swung open the fragile door of her uneven, battered refrigerator a peculiar ache bloomed within his chest and an audible gasp escaped from between his lips. 

 

As the door opened and the fluorescent, sickly light of the fridge flooded the room he saw that it was almost completely empty. An old takeout box sat abandoned on a greasy top shelf, a pitiful, dried out noodle just poking from the yellowed wrapping.

 

Reys’ milk was nauseatingly out of date and so was her off-brand, half eaten yogurt. Apart from that and some old, moulding vegetables in the bottom shelf, the compartment was empty, desolate -  _ barren. _

 

He placed the still warm buns onto the side carefully, making sure not to crush them, and made his way to her cupboard. Inside it was just as pitiful as the refrigerator had been, bare and heart-wrenching, with only a few tins of beans and lentils standing out from the stained wood at the back of the wall. 

 

Ben wasn’t shocked that her cupboards were empty, he was hardly surprised she didn’t know how to cook _clearly,_ but what did shock him - _scared_ him even, was the fact that it _affected_ him. Looking at her gone-off milk and cheap value beans had actually moved _him_ , Ben Solo of all people. 

 

He shoved his head into his hands and rubbed at his temples, his hands still smelling of her _ annoyingly  _ addictive slick. His cock twitched. 

 

_ I need to leave.  _

 

_ That’s _ what he needed to do - Ben needed to leave, get out of this too small, grotty apartment and get some fresh air. Before he did something he would regret. 

 

He trapsed into the bathroom, smug expression plastered on his face, ensuring his mask hadn’t slipped enough for her to see. 

 

Only Rey wasn’t there.

 

“ _ Rey?”  _ He called out, his voice sounding too soft in his own ears, breaking the silence of the grimy apartment. His chest filled with a curious fluttering as he moved through to her bedroom, peering around the edge of the ajar doorway.

 

It was there, in her cramped doorway that Ben Solo had another, overwhelming epiphany. Something, he wished would  _ frankly  _ stop happening.

 

Looking down at Rey’s sleeping form, her nose scrunched and wrinkled as her face contorted in sleep, her hair wispy, sweat slicked and messed against the pillow, her freckles prominent even in the dark of the room -  _ he didn’t want to leave.  _

 

He rubbed at his rough jaw as he observed her, playing with his lips to suppress the smile from his face even though she was asleep. 

 

This little brat—with her rosy cheeks, drooling mouth, and odd socks— had _no idea_. 

 

He took the ratty duvet that was strewn half across her bed and placed it over her still form, watching it slowly rise and fall with her steady breathing. He even went as far as tucking it in,  _ just so _ , under her lithe hips and slack shoulders. 

 

Before he could talk some sense into himself he walked round to the other side of the bed and just perched, the weight of him bending the ancient mattress, causing the old wood beneath to creak. He grimaced a little, thinking of his own Emperor mattress that had been probably $10,000 overpriced. 

 

_ Just 10 minutes.  _

 

He insisted, as he kicked his shoes off with his feet, shucking off his blazer and folding it neatly onto the floor alongside his Breitling watch and his cufflinks. He tentatively lay down next to Rey, realizing almost immediately that this bed was hardly big enough for her - never mind  _ him  _ too.

 

Ben turned a little -  _ gently _ , of course, lying on his side so he almost spooned her -  _ just to make more room.  _ He nodded to himself as he chewed at his lips. And as he lay there breathing in the sleep sweet smell of her, listening to her soft breathing, the warmth of her seeping into his very bones - he felt content - sated.

 

Then, for the first time in his adult life - Ben Solo had the overwhelming urge to do something  _ awfully  _ impulsive. Sat there in his ruined, stained slacks and creased, unbuttoned shirt a strange, unnerving warmth building up in his chest - he found he couldn’t help himself. 

 

He propped himself up on his elbow, suddenly  _ nervous _ \- like he was a gangly teenager again back in his parents’ basement, with oversized ears, awkward limbs, and clammy palms. He considered Rey again, his breath coming a little faster than usual. The outline of her delicate shape was framed - glowing, almost in the deep orange light that broke in through the cracks of her makeshift blind. 

 

He sighed and leaned over against his better judgment, pushing his lips to Rey’s temple -  _ just for the briefest of seconds -  _ succumbing himself to the fantasy of the moment. She mumbled, stirring in her sleep. Ben brushed back some hair that had fallen across her face and collapsed back onto the bed. 

 

_ 10 minutes.  _ He repeated as his suddenly heavy eyes began to shut despite himself. 

 

_ Just 10 minutes. _

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

Rey snuffled, nuzzling the coarse, undressed mattress, her snarled mass of hair tickling her bare neck as she tossed and turned, gradually regaining consciousness. The insides of her sealed eyelids were tinctured with the jarring, yellow light that surged through her bedroom window, trespassing through the provisional blinds she’d stapled together herself. She made an attempt to turn onto her stomach and wrench the pilled, moth-eaten covers upward in order to shield her sensitive eyes, but _something_ was _severely_ limiting her movement.

Draped over top of her, this heavy presence seemed to grow more leaden by the second, squeezing her to pieces and mooring her to her twin bed. She kicked lazily, intending to punt the weighty inconvenience off of her cot and onto the short, wiry pile of the carpet so she could stretch her limbs out in peace.

It _grunted,_ however, and Rey instantly seized up.

Purged of any and all traces of grogginess, she registered the noise, her eyes splitting open as she woke with a start. She became acutely aware of the mass swathing her body; it murmured unintelligibly against her collar bone, and then it gave a long, sleepy sigh. She directed her adjusting eyes downward in order to discern _what_ , exactly, was using her breasts like a pillow, and found a mop of unkempt, greasy hair peering right back at her, black wisps tickling the expanse of her chest.

She blinked three times, in a state of absolute disbelief.

_He… stayed the night,_ she registered, stunned.

Careful not to disturb him, she lifted herself up onto her elbows, wishing to inspect more than the tangled locks of hair sprouting from his scalp. Propped up, she regarded him entirely, considering the sheer size of him and comparing it to her cramped, flimsy twin bunk. Then, she reached upward, her fingers daring to kiss the very strands of hair that veiled his eyes before sweeping them sideways, exposing his face to her.

Delicately patterned in the hazy, orange beams of sunlight that percolated through her window, he looked almost human—too soft, too vulnerable. Like he was made of sinew and flesh rather than steel, marble, or some other cold, immalleable substance.  

Rey found that she preferred this mussed, greasy tangle of hair to its ordinarily pristine style. She’d tucked the wild strands behind his large ears, but they kept springing back, set with sleep and falling over his brow, concealing half of his face— _even in his sleep,_ Rey mused, _he wears a mask._

With his cheek flattened and distorted against her chest, he appeared less stoic, less formal than usual. In fact, he looked rather boyish with his lips parted, wetted by a string of drool. She contemplated each bump and ridge carved onto his jutting nose, his nostrils flaring a bit as he breathed another heavy sigh. A spattering of moles embellished his face, patterning his skin like specks of paint flicked haphazardly onto a tarp, and Rey found herself tracing them with her eyes, linking each mark as though she were peering through her telescope, identifying constellations.

She traced over the creased collar of his semi-transparent, chiffon shirt. Half-unbuttoned, it creeped up his torso, revealing the dark dusting of hair that began just beneath his navel and swept further down, receding from view behind the waistband of his rumpled slacks. His abdomen was fashioned with thick, stocky muscle which, likewise, was speckled with an assemblage of little, brown moles.

For one second— _just one second_ —Rey allowed herself to revel in the intimacy of his hold, eyeing the weighty arm slung over her waist with a warm throb in her chest. He embraced her as though he were a child cradling his favorite plaything, nuzzling her chest every so often, exhaling hoarse, sleepy breaths.

_Maybe,_ Rey’s mind wandered, _this doesn’t have to be some sort of self-serving business arrangement, in which we take only what we want from each other._

She mused, submerged in absolute silence as the bold yellow light stealing through her bedroom window softened into a dim, orange glow, listening to the sounds of morning traffic building raucously just outside— _Maybe we could be together._

For a fleeting moment, she fantasized that the two of them were actually kindred spirits, hacking it out on the cold, uncaring rock that was New York. She pretended they were a couple who enjoyed promenading down avenues and stopping in front of meal carts in order to indulge in greasy, overpriced slices of pizza; she envisioned them worrying about extortionate bills and engaging in mind-blowing sex _without_ stipulations.

Then, her eyes flickered down to the Breitling watch that sat on the side-table, which emphasized each passing second with a faint obnoxious _tick._ She scrutinized the material that lay on the dusty nightstand, eyeing the designer cufflinks that sat beside it as they twinkled and glimmered beneath the defined streaks of sunlight. Rey deflated; it felt like a kick in the teeth.

Her fantasy, she concluded, was just that, and would _always_ just be that: a fantasy. There would be no waking up beside Ben every morning and feeling his snug embrace; there would be no wiping pizza grease off his chin with her equally greasy fingers on hot sidewalks; there would be no spontaneous quickies in public bathrooms because they _just_ couldn’t keep their hands off each other, whispering intimate nothings into one another’s ear.

There would be none of that.

Eventually, she figured, Ben Solo would chew her up and spit her out, and she’d be left to her own devices once more, destined to be alone, unimportant, and perpetually abandoned by those she loves most. She was destined to be nothing, a fact that had become almost comforting to cling to - just so no one could disappoint her.

She rubbed her eyes with balled up fists, willing the drowsiness and fanciful daydreams out from behind them. Tilting her head downward once more to inspect him, she expected to see his slack face still resting atop her chest, eyes closed, but was instead met with a pair of striking, honeyed eyes peering right back at her. He blinked slowly, his eyelids looking rather pink as sleepiness continued to tug at them, and he regarded her with a blank stare.

Ben’s fingers lifted, then, toward her face, and Rey braced herself for the abrupt sensation of his knuckles skimming over her cheek, caressing her, but it never came. Instead, the pads of his fingers hovered just above her temple, tracing her hairline with a featherlight touch. Rey sagged against the pillows, her eyes drooping shut as she savored each lulling brush of skin, her scalp tingling pleasantly. She swayed toward his touch, and his fingertips ventured downward, grazing over the indistinct spattering of freckles that mottled her forehead.

She dared to open her eyes once more, contemplating the man as he ogled his own fingers, or, more accurately, her skin beneath them. His middle finger kissed the root of her nasal bone, sweeping down the bridge of her upturned nose at an agonizingly slow pace, as though he were attempting to memorize her facial structure in its entirety. It soon sunk into the groove positioned directly between her nose and upper lip, and Rey prayed he wouldn’t feel her unsteady puffs of breath gusting over his sizeable palm.

Ben shifted in order to prop himself up on his elbow, tendrils of sable hair untucking themselves from behind his ear and becoming displaced once again. He outlined her plush lips with the pad of his steady forefinger, stroking the fleshy, pink, sleep-dried skin. Unwittingly, she parted them, willing her tongue to follow his movements, wetting the cracked flesh. He mirrored her then, the deep pink of his tongue peeking just between his lips to wet them.

The bedroom was charged with heavy, synchronous breathing as his index finger trailed even further down, proceeding over the curve of her chin in order to wander down her neck. He pursed his lips, swallowed harshly, and allowed his fingertips to stroke over her collarbones,  gliding down her chest until…

He stopped.

To her _utmost disappointment,_ Ben collapsed back onto the bed gracelessly, squinting up at the unattractive, greige ceiling.

“I have a meeting this morning,” he stated plainly, his voice too formal for her sun-soaked bedroom.

Rey didn’t know what to say to that. His touch lingered - burned, and her body was thrumming for him so intensely she could hardly think. She sunk dejectedly down into the mattress, stewing over the anticlimax, and she opened her mouth to speak before he could up and leave.

“It… it was good,” she tried, eyeing the ceiling as well. “Last night, I mean… I just… I’m”—words staggered out of her mouth, and she couldn’t begin to understand why she felt so nervous around the man all of a sudden—“… _thank you,_ is all I’m trying to say.”

_Christ,_ Rey thought.

He’d left her sweating and convulsing on her own bathroom floor, and there she was, reviewing him like a shoddy, three-star Amazon product.

He nodded, clearing his throat as she sat up, red-faced.

Rey, _frankly,_ had never wanted to crawl up her own ass so badly in her entire life. This moment was playing out like a traffic accident in slow motion, and her pride was being slowly mangled by this humiliating pillow talk.She rolled onto her side, reaching down to procure the stiff, tattered towel resting on her carpet, swaddling herself in an attempt to conceal her bare figure.

“M’gonna get up,” she murmured unintelligibly. “Feel free to…”

She gestured nonspecifically to her surroundings, offering her utilities to the man with a vague, awkward wave of her hand.

_Christ,_ Rey thought once more.

Ben wasn’t _supposed_ to stay, and _surely_ he hadn’t meant to. Men like him would never willingly elect to stay overnight in ramshackle apartments, nestled up against scrawny, “street rats” like herself. Despite his overwhelming, post-sleep beauty, he was still an _asshole_ , and a wealthy, condescending one at that. She was, Rey figured, nothing more to him than a hired hand at his beck and call.

She weaved into the kitchenette with aching kneecaps and twinging thighs, feeling entirely worn out. A few moments later, an unpleasant, mechanical whir sounded from the bathroom - Rey smiled self-satisfactorily—it would seem Ben Solo was attempting to work her shower. She envisioned him staggering in the tub, damning the drizzle of discolored water that gushed out of the metal shower head, bumping his head against the curtain rod countless times.

Lost in thought, Rey nearly overlooked the large, paper box sitting patiently atop her counter. She furrowed her brows, casting an accusatory glance toward the bathroom door before flicking the lid open warily, taking a moment to inspect its contents.

It was hard to overwhelm someone like Rey. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d ever been choked up, her throat constricting uncomfortably as she blinked away fat, globular tears.

There was once, Rey recollected, when she arrived at her third foster home in Staten Island and was immediately entrusted with her very own bedroom, fringed with a pink ostentation that whispered, “You _do_ belong here,” into her ear the second she stepped over the threshold. Rather than underfeeding her and directing her to lie down on some rank, moth-eaten dog bed like her first caretaker had done, the Andors had provided her with a snug bed, a stocked bookshelf,  and a place to call her own. Consequently, she’d burst into tears.

Another time, her sophomore-year Physics teacher, Miss Kanata, had given her a set of astronomy encyclopedias before school let out. Embossed with a great, big pinwheel galaxy and gilded along the front cover, Rey had admired and overturned each volume’s pages with painstaking effort. When she had finished, she set the book aside and hunched forward to seize the wrinkly, 4-foot-something woman in her open arms. She cried then, too.

And then there was now, standing in her dank kitchenette on weak legs, eyeing the pastries sat atop her work surface incredulously. The buns were sluiced with white glaze, arranged into four, tantalizing rows, and Rey reached out a single finger, gathering a clump of hardened icing on the tip of her pointer finger and guiding it to her open mouth.

_He stayed,_ Rey mused. _He… remembered that I like cinnamon rolls, and he ordered a whole boxful for me. He almost…_

For a fleeting moment, Rey reminisced  about the way Ben looked at her last night, pressing her down against the floor with his own heavy figure, peering into the mirror as though he were looking divinity itself in the eyes. _“You’re beau—”_ he’d managed.

_He almost… called me beautiful._

Rey knew how this was _supposed_ to go; he was _supposed_ to fuck her selfishly and then empty his wallet on her bare body, his hot tongue stroking against her clit in return for bloated wads of cold, hard cash that fit into her pockets by the narrowest of margins.

This, though… this was something else, something terrifyingly unfamiliar.

Something stirred in the back of her mind: a dream… no, a _memory._ She recalls her twin bed dipping tremendously, followed by a nice, warm body pressing itself against her size, fully encompassing her like a sturdy, cozy wall. She obscurely remembered the sensation of a plump pair of lips pressed to her temple, too.

_Fuck it._

Rey has never been the premeditating type. She survived nineteen years taking each day as it came, waiting for each and every spontaneous action to mean something. She was accustomed to winging it.  

By the time she’d processed this, she was already pushing open the bathroom door, which he had left unlocked, and stepping inside.

She noticed two things simultaneously. First, she discerned the massive, unclothed form of Ben Solo essentially strangling her showerhead, swearing profusely, a slew of profanity directed at a feeble stream of what she assumed was frigid water. The upper half of his body was soaking wet, and that tangled mop of hair she’d been admiring not even ten minutes ago was sopping and flat atop his head, exposing his oversized ears.

The second thing she noticed, then, was her own voice. She was speaking _very much_ without the consent of her own brain, lips parting before her mind could will them not to.

“ _Stay,_ ” she spoke firmly, and her command reverberated off of the grimy walls, interrupting the noisy flow of ice-cold water streaming from the spout.

Ben peered up at her instantaneously, the shower head hanging limp from in between his fist, suddenly unbothered by the faulty appliance. His breathing was still a bit heavy from wrestling with the flimsy tubing, and he stared at her with wide eyes, confounded.

“ _Please._ ” It was a whisper that time, the words waning in her throat like duds.

He said absolutely nothing as small beads of water trickled down from his sodden hair, dripping down onto his heaving chest as he gazed in her direction. The bathroom was overcome with a deafening silence, save for the whirring shower head and the unsteady gush of discolored water gurgling down the drain. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, seemingly at a loss for words. Her proposition threw him entirely off guard; she could see it on his face, and she could see his resolve to withdraw from her apartment strengthening before her eyes.

“I have a meeting,” he spoke bluntly, his commanding tone not quite coinciding with his soft, gold-flecked eyes.

He shifted, then, and began concentrating all of his focus on the temperature-regulating valve, turning it every which way, praying for a single droplet of lukewarm water as he pointedly ignored her.

“ _Miss_ your meeting,” she demanded his attention.

The order slipped from in between her lips too easily, and it sounded as though she were _made_ to command him; the assertive, domineering edge that comprised her tone startled even herself. Ben whirled around once more to face her, his eyes narrowing as frustration clouded his face. He lifted his chin haughtily, peering at her through cold, half-lidded eyes, entirely prepared to snark about her shoddy appliances or remind her of his prodigious salary.

Before he could scathe her with any unwanted remarks, however, Rey reached one hand upward and untucked her towel, allowing the cotton to graze her skin as it sunk to the floor, forming a clump of cloth at her feet.

For a moment, humiliation bubbled up within her, just as it had the night before when she was standing before him, fully exposed. That feeling, though, was washed cleanly away by the sight of Ben wedged inside her constraining shower cubicle. He’d assumed a contrapposto stance, standing confidently before her like something archaic and marble, every muscle and tendon cut from the finest stone by an omnipotent being, and yet…

He was _blushing._

Engaged, honeyed eyes flickered frantically over every inch of her lithe form, unsure of which part they wanted to settle on most. He savored his perspective, drinking her figure in as though she were Diana and he were merely Actaeon, flushed and unwitting.

_You’re all talk, Ben Solo,_ Rey mused, her lip twitching as she stepped over the towel in order to approach him.

Before she could even fathom a snide comment to throw his way, she was being lifted off her feet in what she was _convinced_ was a wrestling move, sliding obscenely against his warm, wet skin, scraping at the solid, fleshy wall of his back, scrambling for purchase.

“Put me down!” she exclaimed, playfully striking his glistening skin as he stumbled across her apartment, their bodies thrumming with mutual arousal.

  


***

 

Ben Solo shouldn’t have stayed.

Upon waking up nestled against Rey’s chest, he became very aware of the fact that he had _entirely_ overstayed his visit, and he resolved to flee her apartment as soon as possible. The prospect of resting alongside another individual for hours at a time was both unfamiliar and unnerving to him. He hadn’t shared a bed with anyone in years; not since, he’d say, his private school days. The women—and, occasionally, the men—he invited into his penthouse to sate his needs _never_ overstayed their welcome, vacating his high-rise apartment with a bankroll packing their pocket and no goodbye— _that,_ Ben thought to himself, _is how Solos display their gratitude._

He had, however, neglected to consider _any_ of this before lying down at her side on the unstable cot and pressing his lips to her temple for one singular, fleeting moment. While admiring her freckled forehead, and her slack face, and her light snores, he had felt something foreign and powerful bubbling up inside of him. He should have left instantly, but the unfamiliar sensation coerced him to settle against her and skim his lips over her brow.

Ben had always been the restless sort; even as a little boy, he’d toss, and turn, and drowse for hours on end ‘til his body permitted him to rest. No bed—whether it be a California King with eiderdown coverlets and sheets of silk, or an inadequate twin with no bedlinen and a tattered blanket—could overcome his sleeplessness. Rey’s faint snores and her body heat, though, had lulled him to sleep in a matter of _minutes_.

He wouldn’t allow himself to think about that fact too much.

He _needed_ to shower, if only to wash away the overwhelming scent of her, which now perfumed his clothes. She smelled of springtime and strawberries, and the very last thing he needed was _that_ distracting him as he barked orders at Armitage for the next six hours or so.

_If only her shower wasn’t completely fucking useless,_ he mused bitterly.

Her shower system was configured so _ridiculously_ , Ben was having a hard time wrapping his head around it. Ice-cold water jetted out the second he nudged the the temperature knob, soaking his front and chilling him to the bone. Within seconds, though, the harsh, frigid stream metamorphosed into a scalding drizzle, causing him to jerk back, his chest marked with itty-bitty, red dots.

It was far too cramped for him, and, as if the godforsaken showerhead hadn’t been enough of an issue, every trace of her berry-scented shampoo prompted him to think of her. There were involuntary flashes of the blinding whites of her teeth, and the faint brown of the specks lining her freckle-spattered nose, and the soft, wet pink of her cunt.

This whole thing, Ben insisted, has been an _awful_ idea. He should have deleted the app, jerked himself off, and kept his money in his wallet. He’d much rather have been in his suite with a bottle of scotch in one hand and his cock in the other than in some squalid hovel on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, seriously considering clearing his schedule for some brat he barely knew.

Except, _that_ was the problem: he felt as though he _did_ know her. In fact, he felt like he’d known her for far too long, like the taste of her was primeval, long forgotten but just as much a part of him as his own flesh and blood. His life was a quick successions of temporarity, and fads, and blasé enjoyment, but, in the short time he’d known her, she had already become a constant. Rey was just _there,_ always in his peripheral, present in the outermost parts of his mind. Tucked up in her diminutive apartment, eating those cursed cinnamon rolls, and packaged noodles, and Great Value pop-tarts— _She doesn’t even know,_ he thought, exasperated but comforted by the thought. _She has no idea what she’s doing to me._

And _that,_ is how he got caught taking out his frustrations on the infernal shower tubing, arousal, anger, and anxiety bubbling all at once in his chest. Unable to get her fucking _smell_ out of his nostrils and the taste of her from his tongue.

Ben _tried_ not to look at her wrapped up in that towel, like he was some wary teenage boy again, trying to not get caught. But he could make out the delicate imprint of her hardened nipples pressing up against the fabric, and the soft curve of her hip where it hugged against her. And yet, she looked so small - so innocent and inculpable standing before him with knocked up knees and her hair still matted from sleep.

When she’d asked him to stay he had to choke back a scoff, because _of course_ this succubus wanted to eat him alive, claw away his walls piece by piece until there was nothing left. Be- _Kylo Ren_ had worked far too hard to lose it all playing happy families with some wide-eyed college kid.

He _shouldn’t_ have stayed.

He _should_ have known that the little minx would have seen through his charade straight away, as soon as he gave her that look. And he _should_ have predicted the delicious sound of the material hitting the floor, leaving her bare and flushed before him.

_This_ is what had been haunting him, flashing through his mind, his dreams - his fucking _subconscious._ Ben had never really had a type. He usually just went off of who he stumbled across on the app or what video popped up first when perusing through porn, but he was becoming increasingly aware that Rey, may in fact, _be_ his type.

Maybe it was the size difference - knowing he could have her up against a wall in seconds, loving how his cock looked like it could split her right in half, feeling like he was put on the earth just to protect her, gratify her, _satiate_ her in any way he could.

Maybe it was the shape of her body, skinny and lithe yet toned and strong. With delicate curves, perfect rosy nipples and legs that seemed to go on forever. Maybe it was just her heavenly cunt, still a little pink and overused from the night before, swollen from her own desire.

And yet, there was something else. Something that made him look at her soft chestnut hair glowing in the light, umber dusted freckles and bright eyes before he even _thought_ to look at her breasts. Something that made her utterly ineffable to him.

Whatever it was, Ben didn’t have much time to ponder. She was in his arms and pressed up against him before he even had time to think about where he was taking her, stumbling through the hallway.

If he was going to miss his quarterly for this, he was going to make it worthwhile.

**

 

Rey was nothing if not proud of her ingenuity.

Especially when it lead her back into her cramped bedroom, her legs spread wide as she sprawled back against the threadbare sheets, catching her breath as Ben crawled his way up her bottom from the very end of the twin bunk, pressing a surplus of lingering kisses to her shins and thighs. He hummed indecisively, nuzzling her inner thigh as he poised his mouth near her cunt, appearing conflicted, before restraining himself and kissing his way up the rest of her body.

Wedging a knee in between her splayed legs, he kissed her neck and jaw, emitting small, breathy noises all the while. Then, he pressed his lips to her own, and Rey nearly melted.

His kiss was unfamiliar, though she’d felt it only days before in his office; it felt different—languid and feverish rather than sloppy and uninvolved, comprised of something natural, something organic. It lacked the pretense or illicit demands that seemed to accompany Ben Solo wherever he went, and Rey couldn’t have been more grateful to watch this million dollar man fall to pieces on top of her, bucking against her and groaning into her mouth, getting himself all worked up.

He tilted his head to murmur incoherently against her shoulder, his lips hot and heavy, whispering, “ _There you go_ ,” and, “ _Good girl,_ ” unintelligibly - breathlessly as he reached one large hand down in between her thighs. He traced his lips from her shoulder to her waist, leaving soft, wet kisses in his wake, and Rey’s body could hardly handle all of the attention.

He carried on in his pursuit, propped up on his elbows as he frantically lavished her with his tongue, pausing to kiss her nippes, teasing them as he brushed his top lip back and forth over them, delighting in the sight of Rey squirming and mewling beneath him as he took one in between his lips and tugged ever-so-slightly. He was putting on a show for her, moaning and groping at her other breast with his unoccupied hand; his lewd noises were intentional, Rey was entirely certain.

“ _Such pretty, little tits,_ ” he managed to whisper in between kisses, unable to articulate how utterly ruined he felt, dizzied from the mere sight of her bare body beneath his own.

Rey could predict his intentions as he made his way down her stomach, mouthing at her abdomen, fondling every inch of her chest as he soothed her hip bones with his tongue. She _did_ want him between her legs, lapping at her cunt like a man starved, but she wanted something else, too.

“ _Ben,_ ” she breathed out, reaching to press her fingertips to his cheek as he settled in between her thighs, urging him to spare her a glance, to slow down.

He stopped, then, and peered up at her with wide, vulnerable eyes, prepared to drop to his knees in an instant and _beg_ to occupy the empty space between her thighs.

“Rey… _baby,_ ” he nearly whined, licking his lips despite himself, panicking that she would deny him this. “ _Please_ let me. You _know_ I’ll make it good.”

“I want to…try something,” she explained, a little hesitant, stopping him in his tracks.

She tugged at a damp, distending tuft of hair in order to lift his head, tucking each loose tendril behind his large ears. He caught her lips in a kiss once more before kneeling between her legs on the mattress, sitting up straight and waiting patiently for her instruction, his eyes wide and set on her face.

She motioned towards the bedside and commanded, “Stand there.”

Rey had seen this sort of maneuver once before in a sleazy amateur porno, lounging on her cot and dipping her hand between her thighs with erratic, frantic strokes. She watched as he lost his footing and crawled gracelessly off of her bunk, bulky and broad as ever, almost panting as he positioned himself beside her bed, eager to do as he was told.

She rearranged herself so that she was lying on her back with bent legs, her head dangling off the edge of the mattress as she stretched out before him. His thick cock bobbed just several inches above her as he absentmindedly reached to skim his fingertips over her jutting hip bones, admiring her figure with languid strokes.

“I want you in my mouth… ” she admitted, voice wavering as she took in the sight of his reddened tip and his uncut skin. It hung between his legs, as though it were too heavy to fully stand proud.

He huffed out an unsteady breath, closing his eyes in an attempt to compose himself, shuddering at the thought of those pretty, pink lips wrapping around him once again. In his office she’d taken him down her throat, but that memory was hazy and her ministrations had been rushed and, honestly, it had taken all his energy to not come down her throat the second she’d parted her lips. _This_ time around, he intended to savor every second. Parting his thighs, he bent down slightly in order to align her mouth with the head of his cock.

Rey, however, had definitely _not_ finished talking. She placed a hand on his thigh, ceasing his movements.

“… _but_ ,” she hesitated, “I want _your_ mouth on _me_ at the same time.”

And _oh -_ Ben Solo understood, then, that she was _very much_ trying to kill him, and he could hardly muffle the pleased “ _Oh, fuck_ ” that crawled its way up his throat.

“You’re fucking _unreal,_ Rey,” he groaned, resting his knee near her lolling head as he curled himself over her body, propping himself up on his elbows. “Listen to that filthy, demanding mouth of yours.”

He was shameless, mouthing at her hips mere seconds after bending over her body, the head of his cock prodding her cheek as he concentrated solely on prising her thighs further apart, exposing her to him entirely.

“Begging to choke on my cock while my face is between your legs…” Ben taunted, lazily spreading the pink lips of her cunt with two fingers, appreciating the view. “So ambitious, Miss Rey.”

Rey huffed out a haughty laugh, tilting her head sideways to kiss the uncut skin gathered at the tip of his cock, his hips jerking forward due to the unexpected sensation.

“ _Begging?_ ” she repeated incredulously. “ _I’m_ begging?”   Ben pressed his lips to her thigh to suppress a genuine grin, amused by her arrogant tone.

She cleared her throat loudly, exaggeratedly, and prepared to imitate him. Pouting her lips in a mocking manner and fluttering eyelashes, she whined, “ _Rey, baby, please let me eat your pussy. Please, I’ll make it so good._ ”

He flushed, and he was momentarily glad that their position prevented her from seeing his flustered expression. Regaining his composure moments later, he began shifting his hips ever-so-slightly in order to rub the head of his cock against her cheek, allowing her to feel the sheer size of him.

“Do you think you can take it, Rey?” he spoke breathlessly, still rocking his hips back and forth at a slow pace.

Rey’s eyes were closed, then, and she savored the feeling of his flushed tip dragging back and forth against the side of her face, traces of early arousal leaking onto her skin.

“Do you think _you_ can, Solo?” Rey chided as she widened her legs further for him, undulating her hips towards his face. She half expected it, but that didn’t stop the sting singing through her nerve endings as he bought down his hand to spank her pussy.

“I always remember you like that” he started, almost to himself, “ever since that first time.”

Rey was about to reply when her breath hitched in her throat, held prisoner by the sudden warm pressure on her clit. If he’d been adept at giving head before, then this angle was something _else entirely._

It gave him complete access to her, letting him trace his tongue over where she was throbbing and leaking for him already. She had to centre herself for a second, breathing in and closing her eyes just to stop herself from coming then and there. If he was going to play then so was she.

If she was being honest with herself, she hadn’t stopped thinking about Ben’s cock since she’d been on her knees at his desk, practically mewling as she took him down her throat. Yet, she couldn’t help but scold herself for forgetting how utterly beautiful she found it. His cock jutted out _just_ above her face, giving her a fully unhindered view of him. And _gods,_ he was hard and heavy, red and leaking from his own ministrations on her, his slick dripping down onto himself and her chest.

Unable to help herself she ran her tongue through the pool of saliva that had gathered in her mouth while she’d been inspecting him, then slowly peeked the tip of it forward, licking curiously along his swollen tip, her lips pushing open against him - warm and soft.

_“F- fuuuuck”_ Ben responded almost immediately, his own impatient, frustrated moan vibrating from somewhere inside the broad planes of his chest up to his lips which were currently ravishing her leaking cunt.

Emboldened by the desperate moans gasping their way out of Ben’s mouth, she tilted her head back to catch the tip of him between her lips, undulating her head to take him - _just so._ Slowly rocking her head, dancing her tongue around him as she took him down further and further.

Ben was pretty sure he was about to die, smothered and completely sated in between the thighs of this - this _angel,_ with his tongue lapping at her pussy and his cock shoved between her lips. _Fuck,_ he couldn’t get enough, even though he could taste her to his tonsils and the smell had begun to permeate the walls of his skull, it _wasn’t enough_ . Growling to himself he suckled on her clit as his hands up to spread her lips for him, spreading her open where she was slick and pink and _fuck_ he couldn’t help but spit right onto her, mixing his own saliva with her spend.

If there’s one thing Ben Solo would _never_ call himself it was unprepared. He didn’t enter a boardroom unless he knew every single person sitting at his polished glass table, until he knew exactly what they wanted from him, and finally - until he’d worked out their fatal Achilles’ heel, the perverse little skeleton in their closet, the seedy, scrawled out hooker’s number they kept in their wallet. He’d prided himself for years on keeping to his diary to the last second and yet -

_Nothing -_ absolutely nothing - could have prepared Ben Solo for the way that Rey jerked forward as he slurped at her, swallowing his dick down her throat as her pretty pink lips toyed at his balls. It was enough to short circuit his fucking brain, the animal, primal part of him stuttering his hips to fuck her throat, his self awareness reeling somewhere in the back of his mind.

“Fuck _\- I didn’t mean_ \- I” he choked out as his words came back him, consciousness snapping back into his brain as he tried to move his cock out of her, momentarily ashamed of himself for losing whatever semblance of control he had left within him.

Yet, she just _hummed,_ bringing her sinful little fingers to tease at his sac, imploring him to twitch and thrust into her mouth again, swallowing him back down inch by inch. And sure maybe he’d been a little impressed at the way she’d come so pretty and angelic on his fingers and tongue that first night, and how she’d sucked him dry while he sat at his own desk - and _god_ the feeling of being fully seated inside her had been the closest thing to a religious experience Ben was ever going to feel.

But _this_ , fucking into her mouth as her body lay open to him, the head of his dick dragging deliciously against her throat as she mewled and writhed while he savoured the taste of her. It was frankly unprecedented. His brain again started lagging behind the thrust of his cock, jittering to the realization that perhaps she - she _definitely —_

“You fucking _like_ this don’t you?” He grinned, his voice low and wrecked as he rubbed his already soaked fingers over her, savouring the noises her cunt made as he slipped between her lips. She didn’t need to answer - the soft moan that vibrated around his cock and tingled up his spine answered for her.

“You like being used like this huh?” Ben pushed on as he worked his hips toward her face, encouraged by her soft mewls and the way she fucked her hips up to his lips, demanding that he touch her again. He happily obliged and covered her with his mouth again, moaning as she took him all down.

“God - _Rey”_ he moaned between licks, “you really are…. _something else._ ” It was obscene really, how reverent and admiring his tone was to his own ears, and yet he _meant_ it. This didn’t feel like those sleazy hookups in bars, or the almost clinical, methodical meetups he was used to, this felt like he was purging his own soul, like it was penance for his crimes to worship every inch of her with his mouth.

“ _Ben-”_ she gasped, taking her mouth off of him as he slid two fingers inside of her, coated with her own slick and crooking right where she needed them.

“This is - this is _just_ ” she tried, unable to finish her sentence as she groaned at him, taking him back into her mouth, her hands coming up to cup his balls once more.

Not that she had to even finish that sentence because Ben _knew_ what she meant, he’d known it the second she’d sat opposite him at the bar that first night, the image of radiance itself, sunshine and freckles swallowing up the fucking room around him. And Ben - he was so used to taking what he wanted, tearing apart competition and swallowing them down whole, he’d never anticipated that this radiant little fireball would get lodged in his throat.

Rey spasmed underneath him, slapping him out of his thought process and back to the matter at hand. She was close, he could feel it, _smell_ it, that telltale pattern of quivers that haunted his daydreams.

“You gonna come? Huh?” He teased, growling as he suckled on her sensitive bundle of nerves again.

She fucked herself down on his fingers, taking what she needed from him as she carried on sucking him down, moving his excess skin with her other hand. The moans she let out vibrated down her throat as around his cock, initiating that telltale tightness in his gut.

“You gonna come _just for me_?” he continued, wickedly crooking his fingers as she pulsed around him. She pulled herself off of his cock momentarily, allowing herself more room to grind down on his fingers as she lifted her head to look down at him. She stuttered to her orgasm, her whole body spasming below him, shaking and twitching as she rode it out on his thick fingers and hot tongue.

He made sure to drink down what he could, savouring every drop she gave him, allowing his fingers to sit still inside of her just to feel her clench around him.

Ben made to get up then, slowly moving his leg to lay to the side of her.

“Where do you think _you’re_ going Solo?” Rey chided breathless, a sinful blush painted across her cheeks, melting down into her pink heaving chest.

“I’m not done with you yet - _Sir”_

And that’s how Ben Solo came hurtling towards his second, absurdly intense, orgasm in 12 hours. With Rey’s body sprawled out beneath him, the taste of her on his tongue and his cock so far down her throat he _swore_ he could see it, her other hand rubbing at his sac until he spilled into her mouth with a pathetic whimper.

 

***

 

Of all the things Rey _could_ have been doing on her day off with the infamous Ben Solo grocery shopping hadn’t been high on the list - if it had featured at all. And yet, there she was staring down at her rain stained trainers waiting outside her apartment for him to pick her up.

He’d _insisted_ that if she was serious about him missing his quarterly then she had no other choice but to let him restock her pitiful excuse for cupboards. Rey wasn’t sure why he was so bothered about what she ate - maybe he was just trying to fatten her up and fill her out so she’d look less bony writhing beneath him.

Or _maybe,_ he really did just want to see her well fed and nourished. She scoffed to herself, _as if Ben Solo was capable of empathy._

He’d also insisted that he should go home and change clothes, although Rey wasn’t really sure why. It’s not like he wore anything but the same, gaudy designer suit every day, seemingly just for the sake of it. She _had_ tested her odds before he left, calling out for him to, “dress like a normal human being for once.” She doubted he would listen.

Rey was slowly but surely expanding her own wardrobe, allowing herself to actually browse for clothes she liked rather than choosing whatever popped up first on the “Price: Low To High” list. Since they were only grocery shopping Rey had chosen her new branded yoga pants, that just so happened to do _magical_ things to the shape of her ass, even if she did say so herself, and a sweater with a price tag in the double figures for once.

Although the price of her outfit was probably considered to be nothing more than average by most people, it’d still left her a sweating, guilty mess sat in front of her new laptop, half tempted to cancel the order. She wasn’t sure she would ever get used to just throwing money at things she didn’t _absolutely_ need to survive. But the leggings had been a start.

Her train of thought was broken by the _beep_ of a car horn near the sidewalk and of _course_ it was Ben that had pulled up in a shiny new black BMW. Repressing her smile and willing herself to look unimpressed she glanced over the car before she got in disapprovingly with a feigned huff.

“I preferred the Maserati” she smiled nonchalantly as she jumped in, secretly admiring the beige leather interior and sleek, polished dashboard.

“Yeah well - the X6 is better for all your grocery needs, _Miss Rey_ ” he chuckled lightly.

Rey suddenly became _very_ aware that possibly for the first time in his life Ben actually wasn’t wearing a suit. Instead he was dressed down in black slacks and a wine coloured, knit pullover that somehow managed to look comfortably oversized _and_ tight against where his bicep was taut as he held the wheel. His sunglasses sat on top of his head this time, pushing his curls away from his face. He’d have looked _positively_ average of it hadn’t been for the ridiculously priced watch that sat upon his wrist, just peeking out from beneath the fabric.

“What?” He questioned her, eyebrows furrowed as he scanned over himself, seemingly checking for possible stains or marks. He looked utterly boyish sat across from her, his lips curled in confusion as he pulled at the fabric to check it over.

Rey, suddenly aware she had been staring averted her eyes, her face flushed, “Just surprised you followed my instructions for once Solo - you know - with your _normal people_ clothes”

He rolled his eyes at her, before starting up the engine again with a smirk, “Miss Rey - I’ll have you know this is _Ferragamo”_

 

***

If Ben hadn’t looked the epitome of the phrase ‘sugar daddy’ while sat in his expensive back-up car in his designer sweater - he most definitely looked it as he walked through the aisles of Whole Foods. One hand sat, unconcerned in the pocket of his slacks, his thumb hanging loose outside. The other hand lightly pushing the cart in front of him, blasé and unbothered. Every so often he’d examine the shelves, his hand running through his hair as he chose between two products, muttering to himself about “the amateur mistakes in their product packaging.”

After they’d perused the bakery and grocery aisles for nearly 30 minutes Rey was starting to lag behind. She had always hated grocery shopping, for a plethora of reasons - most of them to do with her all too familiar abandonment issues and obvious lack of funds. But _honestly_ \- she just found it boring.

She’d already eaten, or at least _nibbled_ at half the stuff Ben had tossed into the cart, all while he was droning on about how _yes,_ “eggs should be used in a Carbonara, not cream” and that _yes_ she, “did need more than one type of knife in her kitchen.” Rey had resigned herself to sliding her feet along the floor, painfully close to defeat as they reached the produce section.

“Look I already let you eat the cookies - will you keep up” Ben sighed as he turned the cart into the aisle, his ‘CEO voice’ making an appearance once again. Rey couldn’t help but smirk - he’d _insisted_ it was simply immoral to eat as you walked through the store, but Rey had begged to differ as she shoved 3 miniature cookies into her mouth in one go, crumbs falling to dust her cheeks and chin and she chewed on them.

“Now - Rey” he started, lifting his hand to motion at the cardboard boxes stacked up beside them, “do you like Okra?”

Rey frowned as she flicked her eyes to him, wiping still remaining crumbs from her face, “What’s an Okra?”

She couldn’t help but repress a laugh at Ben's look of utter dismay as he brought his hands up to rub at his temples.

“ _Okay_ \-  starting at the basics it is then” he chuckled, chucking tenderstem broccoli, kale, and mushrooms into the cart.

“Don’t worry - I’ll show you what to do” he smiled sincerely at her then, eyes bright and beaming down at her. Rey’s stomach churned.

“You don’t have to do that you know, I’m _perfectly_ capable of making something for myself” she retorted defensively, crossing her arms even though she knew it was a lie.

“Oh yeah?” Ben challenged, smirking as he picked up more non-descript greenery from the shelves, “when was the last time you made something that _wasn’t_ packet ramen?”

Rey winced, despite the lighthearted tone he’d used, “we can’t all afford freshly sourced, non GMO, fucking Pak Choi, Kylo.” She regretted how harsh it had come out, a little petulant if anything.

“ _Hey, hey_ ” he spoke, his voice soft as he brushed his fingers across her face as she blushed, annoyance simmering underneath her skin, “I would rest better knowing you were eating something good - _that’s all_.” He explained, his usual nonchalant tone missing from his words.

“Besides, you don’t have to worry about that anymore - I’m here to fulfill _all_ your Pak Choi needs” he smirked, bumping himself against her shoulder.

After arguing for 5 minutes over whether Rey could add what was _technically_ “healthy, organic” ramen to the cart, they finally reached the tills - ramen secretly stuffed inbetween a box of porridge oats and some fresh pasta. They watched as the woman behind the desk scanned their stuff, Rey kicking Bens shin every time he rolled his eyes and went to make a comment about her “ _work ethic._ ”

“That’ll be $107 please sir _._ ” she drawled, as if speaking itself was an excess of effort, chewing her gum expectantly.

Rey felt hot suddenly, sweat pooling in between her arms from seemingly nowhere as she blinked through unanticipated dizziness. $107 - _on food!?_ Rey tried not to break single figures when she bought groceries for herself, never mind _triple._

“B-Ben” she whispered, the room still spinning. She grabbed onto his sleeve to keep herself steady, feeling like the floor was crumbling from beneath her.

“Rey?” He turned to her, the worry clear in his voice, not that she could hear it. Noise had become distant and foreign to her, echoing somewhere in her ears but not quite registering. _God -_ she was going to throw up...or pass out...or _something._ The woman was staring at her oddly now, and Bens lips were moving but she couldn’t quite hear him. She stumbled past him, racing to the exit, sticky with anxious sweat and practically vibrating with a sickly nervous energy. $107 on food just for _her._

She crashed her back against the wall outside, slipping down it as she gulped down air into her painfully too tight lungs. She held her head in hands until her breathing evened out and her vision became less hazy at the edges. Showy gifts were one thing, and even _she_ had enjoying slipping her fingers into his wallet for show, but _this_ was different.

She thought of all the times she’d had to leave food at the till because she didn’t have the cash, the times she’d had to pick between sanitary towels and a few tins of soup. Even the times she’d resorted to shoving things in her pockets, sneaking out the door and hoping she wouldn’t get caught before hurriedly _inhaling_ whatever it was she had got her hands on in the alley outside.

And now she was waltzing around having someone buy her _fucking Kale._

Ben appeared a few minutes later with a cartful of shopping, his brows furrowed but not with anger - more like worry. He stopped just in front of her, his face wearing a strange emotion she’d never seen him wear before. He didn’t say anything, just held his hand out towards her with a gentle smile.

Rey looked up at him, suddenly embarrassed that he’d spent that money on her and that she’d freaked out. Ben Solo was frankly, a riddle _impossible_ to decipher and it was giving Rey whiplash trying to figure out his motives on top of dealing with her own guilt. And yet, there he stood in front of her, smiling so she could see the small dimple in his cheek as he offered her the last cookie from the packet she’d been snacking on. His fingers wiggling it in front of her face -

“Come on - let's get you home huh?” His voice was faint and tinged with a strange softness as he reached out his other hand to pull her up. Rey took the cookie first, shoving it into her mouth reasoning that at least the sugar hit would make her feel better.

She took his hand then, thrusting herself upwards so she could stand. For a moment _\- a second_ \- he pulled her into his side, his hand around the small of her back in an embrace he probably had hoped would seem comforting, moving his hand to stroke at her reassuringly. But it was over before Rey even had time to register that she was nuzzled into his side.

“Oh -” he added, bumping his shoulder against hers once more as they started to walk, “just so you know I _watched you_ hide that awful ramen - _minx_ ”

“I have _no_ idea what you’re talking about.” Rey teased as she furrowed her eyebrows in feigned confusion.

“Mhm - sure” he smirked down at her, flicking his sunglasses from where they were nestled in his hair down onto the bridge of his nose.

“Just so you know, that _definitely_ violates the terms of our contract - _Miss Rey”_  


**Author's Note:**

> This started with a sugar daddy au headcanon discussion on twitter with me (spookyreylo on twitter), Lauren (thumosren on twitter) and Clara (jedihbic on twitter) and it spiraled into this. We loved writing this so much and hope you enjoy it! Title is from Big God by Florence + the Machine.


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